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THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 


The  Jungle  Folk  of  Africa 


By 
ROBERT  H.  MILLIGAN 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK          CHICAGO         TORONTO 

Fleming  H.   Revell  Company 

LONDON        AND       EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


GENERAL 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  80  Wabash  Avenue 
Toronto :  25  Richmond  Street,  W. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  100  Princes  Street 


PREFACE 

"  "TT  N  the  realm  of  the  unknown,  Africa  is  the  ab- 
:  solute,"  said  Victor  Hugo.  Since  the  time  of 

JL  Hugo  the  civilized  world  has  become  better  ac- 
quainted with  African  geography ;  but  the  Africans 
themselves  are  still  a  people  unknown. 

A  certain  noted  missionary,  while  on  furlough  in 
America,  after  delivering  a  masterly  and  brilliant  lecture 
on  Africa  to  an  audience  of  coloured  people,  gave  an  op- 
portunity for  persons  in  the  audience  to  ask  him  ques- 
tions pertaining  to  the  subject.  He  was  rather  abashed 
when  an  elderly  negro,  who  had  been  deeply  interested 
in  the  lecture,  called  out :  "Say,  Mistah  S.,  is  they  any 
colo'ed  folks  ovah  thah  ?  "  Most  people  know  that  there 
are  a  goodly  number  of  "  colo'ed  folks"  in  Africa  ;  but 
the  knowledge  of  the  majority  extends  only  to  the  colour 
of  the  skin.  And  if  in  this  book  I  endeavour  to  make 
the  Africans  known  as  they  really  are,  it  is  because  I  be- 
lieve that  they  are  worth  knowing. 

In  the  generation  that  has  passed  since  the  books  of 
Du  Chaillu  were  the  delight  of  boys — old  boys  and  young 
— the  African  has  received  but  scant  sympathy  in  litera- 
ture. Du  Chaillu  had  the  mind  of  a  scientist  and  the 
heart  of  a  poet.  He  never  understated  the  degradation 
of  the  African  nor  exaggerated  his  virtues,  but  he  recog- 
nized in  him  the  raw  material  out  of  which  manhood  is 
made.  He  realized  that  the  African,  like  ourselves,  is 
not  a  finality,  but  a  possibility — "  the  tadpole  of  an  arch- 
angel," as  genius  has  phrased  it.  But,  then,  Du  Chaillu 
lived  among  the  Africans  long  enough  to  speak  their 

9 


190816 


10  PREFACE 

language,  to  forget  the  colour  of  their  skin,  and  to  know 
them,  mind  and  heart,  as  no  passing  traveller  or  casual 
observer  can  possibly  know  them. 

In  more  recent  books  the  African  is  usually  and  uni- 
formly presented  as  physically  ugly,  mentally  stupid, 
morally  repulsive,  and  never  interesting.  This  is  by  no 
means  my  opinion  of  the  African.  Kipling' s  characteriza- 
tion, "  half  child,  half  devil,"  is  very  apt.  But  what  in 
the  world  is  more  interesting  than  children — except  devils? 

This  book  is  an  attempt  to  exhibit  the  human  nature  of 
the  African,  to  the  end  that  he  may  be  regarded  not 
merely  as  a  being  endowed  with  an  immortal  soul  and  a 
candidate  for  salvation,  but  as  a  man  whose  present  life 
is  calculated  to  awaken  our  interest  and  sympathy ;  a 
man  with  something  like  our  own  capacity  for  joy  and 
sorrow,  and  to  whom  pleasure  and  pain  are  very  real ; 
who  bleeds  when  he  is  pricked  and  who  laughs  when  he 
is  amused;  a  man  essentially  like  ourselves,  but  whose 
beliefs  and  whose  circumstances  are  so  remote  from  any 
likeness  to  our  own  that  as  we  enter  the  realm  in  which 
he  lives  and  moves  and  has  his  being  we  seem  to  have 
been  transported  upon  the  magic  carpet  of  the  Arabian 
fable,  away  from  reality  into  a  world  of  imagination — a 
wonderland,  where  things  happen  without  a  cause  and 
nature  has  no  stability,  where  the  stone  that  falls  down- 
wards to-day  may  fall  upwards  to-morrow,  where  a  per- 
son may  change  himself  into  a  leopard  and  birds  wear 
foliage  for  feathers,  where  rocks  and  trees  speak  with 
articulate  voice  and  animals  moralize  as  men — a  world 
running  at  random  and  haphazard,  where  everything 
operates  except  reason  and  where  credulity  is  only  equalled 
by  incredulity.  Elsewhere  it  is  the  unexpected  that  hap- 
pens :  in  Africa  it  is  the  unexpected  that  we  expect. 

A  knowledge  of  the  jungle  folk  of  Africa  will  include 
some  acquaintance  with  their  jungle  home,  their  daily 


PREFACE  11 

life,  their  work,  their  amusements,  their  social  customs, 
their  folk-lore,  their  religion,  and,  among  the  rest,  it  will 
include  their  response  to  missionary  effort.  Of  these 
several  subjects,  those  which  receive  scant  treatment  in 
this  book  will  be  more  fully  presented  in  a  second  book 
on  Africa,  which  is  now  in  course  of  preparation. 

I  have  avoided  generalizations  and  abstractions,  in  the 
belief  that  the  concrete  and  the  personal  would  be  not 
only  more  interesting  but  also  more  informing.  This 
book  is,  therefore,  in  the  main,  a  narration  of  the  par- 
ticular incidents  of  my  own  experience  and  observation 
during  seven  years  in  Africa ;  incidents,  many  of  which, 
at  their  occurrence,  moved  me  either  to  laughter  or  to 
tears,  and  sometimes  both  in  alternation.  For,  nowhere 
else  in  the  world  does  tragedy  so  often  end  in  comedy, 
and  comedy  in  tragedy. 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Harry  D.  Salveter  for  his  kind- 
ness in  furnishing  me  with  many  photographic  illustra- 
tions, including  the  best  of  my  collection. 

ROBERT  H.  MILLIGAN. 
New  York. 


CONTENTS 

I 
THE  VOYAGE  ....  ...      19 

Dreadful  alternatives — A  pork  and  cabbage  saint — The 
outfit — A  parting  pain— Canary  Islands — The  change  to 
the  tropics — Sierra  Leone — The  native  yell — Deck  pas- 
sengers— A  meal  of  potato-peelings — Liberia — Shipboard 
conversation — A  shrewd  decision. 

II 

THE  COAST 36 

Wet  and  dry  seasons— The  climate— The  trader— Old 
Calabar — The  crocodile — The  most  beautiful  place  in 
West  Africa — The  ugliest  place  in  the  world — Mount 
Cameroon — A  ride  on  a  mule — Landing  in  the  surf. 

Ill 

BUSH  TRAVEL .55 

Where  no  white  man  had  been— The  greatest  forest  in  the 
world — The  caravan — Outfit — African  roads — Bridges — 
The  worst  of  the  road — Blessings  in  disguise — The  art  of 
walking— The  arrival  in  camp — The  misery  of  morning 
— Rubber  stomachs. 

IV 
BUSH  PERILS  .        .        .  •      73 

The  road  at  the  worst— Tired  out— A  palaver  with  the  car- 
riers—Elephants— A  caravan  astray— A  long  night— A 
borrowed  shirt— The  sullen  forest— Accident  the  constant 
factor— A  last  journey— Advantage  of  breakfast  before 
daylight. 

V 

THE  CAMP-FIRE      ...  89 

The  camp— African  mimics — The  lemur's  cry — Legend  of 
the  snail — The  chimpanzee  and  the  ungrateful  man — A 
fable  of  the  turtle — Why  the  leopard  walks  alone — A 
"true"  story — A  magic  fight — Discovering  a  thief — A 
spirit  who  spreads  disease — A  shadow-slayer — A  witch 
discovered— Lying  awake  at  night. 

13 


14  CONTENTS 

VI 
A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH 107 

Efulen—  The  " white  animal"  performs — Africa  no  soli- 
tude— The  mail— The  first  fever — Yearning  for  a  shirt — 
A  vivid  account  of  my  funeral — The  first  house — Cooks 
and  cooking — The  medical  layman — Mrs.  Laffin's  visit. 

VII 
THE  BUSH  PEOPLE 131 

The  Bulu  tribe — "  Better-looking  than  white  people  " — 
Dress — Ornamentation — A  sociable  queen — The  white 
man's  origin — Our  fetishes — A  magic  letter — Buying  and 
selling— Chief  Abesula. 

VIII 
AFTER  A  YEAR        ., 148 

Killed  by  mistake — A  woman  stolen — A  passion  for  clothes 
— The  Batanga  church — Expectoration  a  fine  art — Ro- 
mantic career  of  a  nightshirt — Bekalida — Keli,  the 
incorrigible — Death  of  Dr.  Good. 

IX 
THE  RRUBOYS 170 

The  Kru  tribe— The  "real  thing"— Kru  English— The 
Kruboy 's  superstition — The  ship's  officers — Dressing  with 
much  assistance — Loading  mahogany — The  Kruboy  and 
the  surf— The  white  man  out  of  hia  element. 

X 

WHITE  AND  BLACK 195 

St.  Paul  de  Loanda — Canine  passengers — Portuguese  sla- 
very— An  American  problem — A  health-change — Boma — 
Belgian  atrocities— Matadi — Stanley — What  I  heard  at 
Matadi — The  apathy  of  the  nations. 

XI 
THE  FANG 217 

Gaboon — The  village — The  house — The  door — The  kiss 
unpopular,  and  no  wonder — Marriage  customs— A  woman 
tortured — An  elder  brother — Immoral  customs — The  Go- 
rilla Society — War — A  troublesome  sister — A  blessing 
that  resembled  a  curse — A  strange  war-custom — Music — 
Dancing— Story  of  the  elephant  and  the  gorilla — Fable 
of  the  sun  and  moon. 


CONTENTS  15 

XII 

FETISHES         .        .  .    249 

The  conception  of  God — Dreams — Ancestor-worship — The 
conception  of  nature — The  fetish  proper — A  wonderful 
medicine-chest — Various  fetishes — A  case  of  discipline — 
Witchcraft — A  convicted  witch — Wives  and  witchcraft 
— The  white  man  and  witchcraft. 

XIII 
A  BOAT  CREW 273 

The  Evangeline— Makuba— An  un-dressball — NdongKoni 
— A  saint  that  lied — Capsized  and  rescued — A  dying 
slave — Dressed  in  a  table-cloth — Flogging  a  chief — A  story 
of  true  love. 

XIV 
A  SCHOOL .302 

The  language  difficulty — Lacked  nothing  but  the  essentials 
— The  late  M.  de  la  R. — One  of  Macbeth's  witches — 
Death  of  Nduna — Bojedi — More  candid  than  kind — The 
racial  weakness — A  royal  romance — Marriage  ceremonies 
— A  penitent — A  fall. 

XV 

A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR 329 

A  health-change — The  brightest  of  his  class — Rotten  Ele- 
phant— Very  sick — An  object  of  wonder— Mount  Ten- 
eriffe — Adventure  with  a  stage-coach — Adventure  with  a 
donkey — The  crisis — The  Ashantee  war — A  burial  at  sea. 

XVI 
A  CHURCH 354 

Reality  versus  romance  in  missions — Arrival  of  the  steamer 
— Adventure  in  a  canoe — An  Apollo  Belvidere  in  ebony — 
A  sensational  call  to  worship — A  white  man's  foot — A 
prayer  that  caused  a  panic — Not  wickedness,  but  worms 
— The  right  hand,  or  the  left  ? — "  Dawn  of  the  Morning  " 
— M'abune  Jesu — Keeping  the  Sabbath — The  harvest — 
The  Jesuits— A  building  not  made  with  hands — "O'er 
crag  and  torrent." 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  Pag* 

CANOE  OF  A  CHIEF  ON  THE  CAMERON  RIVER          .  title 

MOUNT  TENERIFFE,  CANARY  ISLANDS    ...  24 

MISSION  HOUSE  AT  BATANGA          ....  52 

REV.  A.  C.  GOOD,  PH  D 55 

LITTLE  FRANCES  BORN  IN  AFRICA          ...  86 
A  GROUP  OF  ADMIRING  NATIVES     .        .        .        .110 

AN  IMPROVED  MISSION  HOUSE  AT  EFULEN     .        .  118 

THE  PASSION  FOR  CLOTHES 131 

THE  OLD  CHURCH  AT  BATANGA      ....  154 

PASTORS  AND  ELDERS  OF  THE  BATANGA  CHURCH    .  160 

THE  DEBARKATION  OF  A  DECK  PASSENGER     .        .  181 

MAN  AND  WIFE 224 

Two  MEN  DANCING 224 

NDONG  KONI 236 

MAKUBA,  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  BOAT  CREW  .        .        .  276 

BOJEDI,  TEACHER  OF  FANG  SCHOOL        .         .        .  314 

THREE  FANG  BOYS  .  378 


17 


The  Jungle  Folk  of  Africa 


i 

THE  VOYAGE 

11 0  ye  !  who  have  your  eyeballs  vexed  and  tired, 
Feast  them  upon  the  wideness  of  the  sea." 

— Keats. 

WHEN  I  was  about  to  sail  for  Africa  a  friend 
read  to  me  a  thrilling  incident  which  was 
supposed  to  be  prophetic  of  my  own  fate.  A 
cannibal  maiden  proposes  marriage  to  a  newly-arrived 
missionary.  The  missionary  modestly  declines  her  offer  ; 
whereupon,  looking  down  at  him  with  utmost  com- 
placency, she  tells  him  that  she  will  have  him  anyhow — 
either  married,,  or  fried.  I  have  gone  to  Africa  twice,  and 
have  lived  there  nearly  seven  years,  yet  I  have  escaped 
both  of  these  dreadful  contingencies.  There  is  no  longer 
any  glamour  of  romance  about  the  missionary  life.  It  is 
not  a  life  of  hair-raising  adventures  and  narrow  escapes. 
In  those  seven  years  I  was  never  frightened  and  seldom 
killed.  Dull  monotony  is  the  normal  experience  and 
loneliness  the  besetting  trial. 

Neither  are  the  sacrifices  and  privations  of  missionary 
life  so  great  as  many  of  us  have  supposed.  The  sacrifices 
of  the  missionary  are  more  tangible,  but  not  therefore 
greater,  than  those  of  the  faithful  minister  at  home ; 
whose  sacrifices  are  often  more  real  because  less  obvious. 
A  few  days  before  I  sailed  the  second  time  for  Africa, 

19 


20          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

when  I  knew  from  former  experience  that  the  missionary 
life  was  no  martyrdom,  I  was  one  day  seated  at  a  dinner- 
table  where  Africa  and  my  going  was  the  subject  of  con- 
versation. The  company  had  the  most  exaggerated  ideas 
of  the  privations  incident  to  missionary  life.  There  was  no 
use  in  a  denial  on  my  part  j  and  to  have  disclaimed  any  of 
the  fictitious  virtues  with  which  they  loaded  me  would 
only  have  caused  them  to  add  the  virtue  of  modesty  to 
the  rest. 

A  maiden  lady  across  the  table,  who  for  some  time  had 
sat  with  abstracted  countenance,  at  last,  with  upturned 
eyes  and  clasped  hands,  remarked  :  "  Well,  I  think  it  is 
an  appalling  sacrifice/' 

To  have  lived  up  to  my  part,  my  face  at  that  moment 
should  have  worn  a  saintly  expression  of  all  the  virtues 
rolled  into  one  j  but  it  happened  that  my  mouth  was 
quite  full  of  pork  and  cabbage,  with  which  my  carnal 
mind  was  occupied,  and  I  am  sure  I  looked  more  like  an 
epicure  than  an  ascetic.  Nothing  but  the  pork  and  cab- 
bage kept  me  from  laughing  outright. 

Eeally,  life  in  Africa  is  much  the  same  as  life  anywhere 
else;  and  the  " privations"  only  teach  us  how  many 
things  we  can  do  without  which  we  once  thought  were 
indispensable.  This  lesson  is  impressed  the  more  deeply  in 
such  a  land  as  Africa,  where  a  human  being  may  liv€ 
for  threescore  years — comfortable,  apparently  happy, 
and  at  least  healthy — with  little  else  than  a  pot,  a  pipe 
and  a  "tom-tom ;  the  first  ministers  to  his  necessity,  the 
second  to  comfort  and  the  third  to  pleasure.  If  we  will 
persist  in  regarding  the  missionary  as  a  martyr,  let  us 
consider  that  the  martyr  does  not  differ  essentially  from 
other  Christians.  Martyrdom  is  potentially  contained 
in  the  initial  decision  of  each  Christian.  The  consecra- 
tion of  a  life  to  Christ  implies  the  willingness  to  lay  it 
down  for  Him.  In  an  uncivilized  land  there  is  a  likeli- 


THE  VOYAGE  21 

hood  of  unwonted  hardships,  and  among  savages  some 
possibility  of  a  violent  death  ;  but  the  latter  is  vastly  im- 
probable. 

One  can  procure  an  outfit  more  conveniently  and  at 
less  cost  in  Liverpool  than  in  New  York.  A  week  at 
Liverpool  is  sufficient  for  this  purpose.  The  outfit  will 
depend  somewhat  upon  whether  one  expects  to  live  on  the 
coast  or  in  the  bush  where  he  will  be  cut  off  from  the 
facilities  of  transportation  by  water.  All  transportation 
to  the  interior  is  by  native  porters,  who  carry  sixty  or 
seventy  pounds  on  their  backs,  in  loads  as  compact  as 
possible.  This  excludes  most  furniture  j  and  such  furni- 
ture as  can  be  transported  is  usually  " knocked  down.'7 
An  ordinary  outfit  will  include  several  helmets  of  cork  or 
pith,  several  white  umbrellas  lined  with  green,  a  dozen 
white  drill  suits,  denim  trousers,  canvas  shoes,  leather 
shoes,  rubber  boots,  cheese-cloth  for  mosquito-bars,  rub- 
ber blankets,  pneumatic  pillows,  hot- water  bags,  a  sup- 
ply of  medicines  (unless  these  are  already  on  the  field) 
especially  quinine  and  castor-xtil,  a  six-months'  supply  of 
food — canned  meats,  vegetables  and  fruits — besides  bed- 
ding and  kitchenware,  tableware,  napery,  etc.,  according 
to  need,  and  guns  and  ammunition. 

There  is  a  romantic  interest  about  this  last  week  spent 
in  the  purchase  of  strange  articles  for  an  untried  life,  and 
in  taking  leave  of  civilization, — of  such  things  as  cities, 
society,  music,  fresh  beef  and  fine  clothes.  The  last 
evening  in  Liverpool  I  went  to  hear  Tannhauser.  Music 
had  always  been  my  pastime,  and  it  was  not  an  easy  sac- 
rifice to  make.  I  therefore  looked  forward  to  that  even- 
ing with  peculiar  interest,  knowing  that  not  again  until 
my  return,  however  long  I  might  remain  in  Africa,  would 
I  hear  any  music  worthy  of  the  name.  But  Tannhauser 
proved  to  be  not  a  sweet  parting  from  civilization  but  an 
awful  experience,  by  reason  of  some  one  in  my  neighbour- 


22          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFHICA 

hood  beating  the  time  with  his  foot,  as  they  so  often  do 
in  England.  I  had  one  of  the  best  seats  in  the  house,  but 
I  exchanged  it  for  another,  only  to  find  myself  in  a  worse 
neighbourhood ;  for,  in  addition.to  a  man  on  each  side  of  me 
beating  the  time,  a  woman  immediately  behind  * '  hummed 
the  tune."  At  the  close  of  the  performance  I  was  in  a 
condition  of  "  mortal  mind'7  that  would  have  scandalized 
those  who  are  disposed  to  canonize  missionaries.  But  the 
sorrow  of  parting  was  thus  mitigated  as  I  reflected  that 
civilization  has  its  pains  and  savagery  some  compen- 
sations. 

I  went  home  and  wrote  the  following  to  a  friend: 
4 'Some  one  alluding  to  Macaulay's  knowledge  of  history 
and  his  unerring  accuracy  once  said  that  infinite  damna- 
tion to  Macaulay  would  consist  in  being  surrounded  by 
fiends  engaged  in  misquoting  history  while  he  was  ren- 
dered speechless  and  unable  to  correct  them ;  and  I  am 
thinking  that  my  inferno  would  consist  in  being  compelled 
to  listen  to  some  such  exquisite  melody  as  0  Thou  Sublime 
Sweet  Evening  Starj  surrounded  the  while  by  fiends  keep- 
ing time  with  their  feet,  and  Beelzebub  humming  the 
tune." 

On  my  first  voyage  to  Africa  (having  been  appointed  to 
the  West  Africa  Mission,  by  the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions 
of  the  Presbyterian  Church)  I  was  four  weeks  on  the  way, 
from  Liverpool,  and  landed  at  Batanga,  in  Cameroon,  two 
hundred  miles  north  of  the  equator.  On  the  second  voy- 
age I  was  five  weeks  on  the  way,  and  landed  at  Libreville 
(better  known  as  Gaboon)  in  the  Congo  Fran^ais,  almost 
exactly  at  the  equator.  Libreville  was  the  capital  of  the 
French  Congo.  Gaboon  is  properly  the  name  of  the  bay 
or  great  estuary  upon  which  Libreville  is  situated,  and 
is  one  of  the  very  few  good  harbours  on  the  west  coast. 
But  long  before  the  existence  of  Libreville,  captains  and 
traders  had  used  the  name  Gaboon  to  designate  the  adjacent 


THE  VOYAGE  23 

settlement  of  native  villages  and  trading-houses,  and  it  is 
still  the  name  in  general  use. 

We  made  many  calls  along  the  way.  Some  of  the 
places  are  very  beautiful,  such  as  the  Canary  Islands, 
Sierra  Leone,  Cape  Coast  Castle,  Victoria,  Fernando  Po 
and  Gaboon  ;  and  some  are  quite  otherwise,  for  Africa  is 
a  laud  of  extremes.  Bonny  is  repulsive,  and  the  Kio  del 
Rey  is  a  nightmare.  Meanwhile,  we  are  getting  further 
and  farther  away  from  all  that  is  known  and  natural  to 
our  eyes,  and  nearer  to  a  land  of  strange  birds  and  beasts 
and  trees,  inhabited  by  tribes  that  to  the  white  man  are 
only  a  name,  or  have  no  name,  and  to  whom  he  is  perhaps 
an  imaginary  being,  or  the  ghost  of  their  dead  ancestors. 

At  the  Canary  Islands,  a  week  after  leaving  Liverpool, 
one  may  spend  a  day  of  interest  and  pleasure.  On  my 
first  voyage  we  called  at  Las  Palinas,  in  Grand  Canary 
Island.  On  the  second  voyage  we  called  at  Santa  Cruz 
on  Teneriffe  Island.  The  object  of  chief  interest  is  the 
great  Mount  Teneriffe,  seen  sometimes  a  hundred  miles  at 
sea  j  probably  the  Mount  Atlas  of  ancient  fable,  which 
was  supposed  to  support  the  firmament.  There  are  of 
course  many  mountain  peaks  in  the  world  which  rise  to  a 
greater  height  above  the  sea-level ;  but  they  are  usually 
in  ranges  or  on  high  table-lands  far  from  the  sea,  and 
while  the  altitude  is  great,  the  individual  peak  may  not 
be  great.  Teneriffe  rises  directly  out  of  the  sea,  slowly  at 
first  but  with  increasing  inclination,  until  at  last  it  sweeps 
upward  to  the  clouds  and  far  above  them,  to  a  height 
of  12,500  feet.  The  sandy  slopes  upon  the  higher  alti- 
tudes reflect  the  light  with  unequalled  splendour.  From 
the  harbour  of  Las  Palmas  we  saw  the  sun  rising  on  Ten- 
eriffe. We  stood  on  the  deck  before  the  dawn,  and  while 
darkness  was  all  around  us,  saw  the  heights  already  strug- 
glingwith  the  darkness,  and  the  summit  bathed  in  the  light 
of  the  unrisen  day.  A  heavy  mist  rolled  down  and  spread 


24          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

over  the  valleys,  like  a  sea  resplendent  with  every  inter- 
change of  deepening  and  dissolving  colour  ;  while  from 
below  arose  the  increasing  noise  and  tumult  of  a  half-civ- 
ilized city  awaking  from  slumber.  In  a  little  while  the 
clouds  begin  to  assemble,  and  the  peak  is  hidden  through- 
out the  day :  so  it  is  always.  But  in  the  evening,  the 
clouds  again  are  parted,  like  opening  curtains,  and  the 
whole  mountain  is  disclosed,  majestic  and  beautiful  in  the 
light  of  the  setting  sun. 

On  the  homeward  voyage  the  steamers  often  take  on  an 
enormous  deck-cargo  of  bananas.  They  are  put  in  crates 
the  size  of  barrels  and  are  packed  in  straw.  In  the  event 
of  a  severe  storm  before  reaching  Liverpool  they  are  more 
than  likely  to  be  washed  overboard.  It  is  a  pleasure  to 
watch  this  loading  from  the  upper  deck.  The  Spanish 
workmen  are  neat  and  clean  ;  they  are  skillful  and  work 
rapidly,  as  indeed  they  must  in  order  to  load  the  entire 
cargo  in  one  day,  which  is  usually  the  limit  of  time.  All 
day  long  Spanish  boys  without  clothes  are  crowded  around 
the  steamer  in  small  boats,  begging  the  passengers  to 
throw  pennies  into  the  water  and  see  them  dive  and  get 
them.  Many  pennies  and  small  silver  coins  are  thrown 
over  in  the  course  of  the  day ;  and  the  boys  seldom  miss  one. 

A  number  of  the ,  passengers  debark  at  the  Canary 
Islands,  and  the  rest  have  more  room  and  more  comfort. 
Immediately  upon  leaving  the  Islands  double  awnings  are 
stretched  over  the  decks ;  and  the  passengers  and  ship's 
officers  the  next  day  don  their  tropical  clothing.  The  sea 
is  exceedingly  calm  as  compared  with  the  North  Atlantic 
and  the  air  soft  and  balmy.  It  recalled  those  lines  of 
Keats  — 

"Often  it  is  in  such  gentle  temper  found, 

That  scarcely  will  the  very  smallest  shell, 
Be  moved  for  days  from  where  it  sometime  fell, 
When  last  the  winds  of  heaven  were  unbound." 


THE  VOYAGE  25 

The  change  to  tropical  life  takes  place  in  one  day  and 
it  is  like  being  suddenly  transported  into  another  world. 
The  men  nearly  all  are  dressed  in  white  drill  suits,  and 
most  of  them  wear  white  caps  and  white  canvas  shoes. 
If  they  go  ashore  at  various  ports  along  the  way  they  will 
exchange  the  cap  for  a  cork  helmet  and  besides  will  prob- 
ably carry  a  white  umbrella.  The  white  suits  if  well 
made  and  well  laundered  look  much  more  comfortable  and 
becoming  than  any  other  clothing.  They  are  usually 
made  in  military  style  with  stitched  collar,  so  as  we  go 
on  further  south  the  shirt  of  civilization  may  at  length  be 
dispensed  with  and  the  coat  worn  directly  over  an  under- 
shirt,—which  latter  ought  to  be  of  wool  and  medium 
weight.  Except  my  first  year,  I  wore  no  shirt  at  any 
time  through  all  the  years  that  I  lived  in  Africa,  not  even 
at  the  French  Governor's  annual  reception  at  Gaboon. 
The  English  at  Old  Calabar  on  formal  occasions  make 
themselves  ridiculous  in  black  dress  suits  with  the  con- 
ventional area  of  shirt-front  and  collar.  In  these  they 
swelter,  vastly  uncomfortable,  while  the  starch  dissolves 
and  courses  towards  their  shoes  down  back  and  breast. 
It  is  not  only,  nor  chiefly,  the  high  temperature  but  the 
extreme  humidity  that  makes  the  atmosphere  so  oppress- 
ive. It  seems  to  be  seventy-five  per  cent,  warm  water. 

On  shipboard  it  is  usually  comfortable  and  pleasant 
while  we  are  under  weigh.  The  most  delightful  part  of 
the  voyage  is  the  first  few  days  after  leaving  the  Canary 
Islands,  when  the  course  lies  in  the  track  of  the  northeast 
trade-winds.  One  thinks  very  differently,  however,  of 
this  trade- wind  in  coursing  against  it  on  the  homeward 
voyage  after  a  length  of  time  on  the  fever-stricken  coast. 
It  seems  piercing  cold,  and,  as  Miss  Kingsley  says,  one 
wishes  that  the  Powers  above  would  send  it  to  the  Powers 
below  to  get  it  warmed.  It  is  in  this  zone  that  deaths 
most  frequently  occur  on  board.  On  the  outward  voyage 


26          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

immediately  after  the  most  delightful  part  of  the  voyage 
comes  the  very  worst  part  of  it,  as  we  pass  beyond  the  trade- 
wind  and  close  in  to  the  coast  near  Cape  Yerde.  For 
several  days  one  is  tempted  to  wish  that  he  might  turn 
back.  There  is  a  dead  calm  on  board,  and  the  heat  is 
enough  to  curl  one's  hair.  It  recalled  Sydney  Smith's 
description  of  some  such  place,  where  "one  feels  like 
taking  off  his  flesh  and  sitting  in  his  bones."  But  it  con- 
tinues only  two  or  three  days.  During  this  time  the 
" punka"  is  installed,  a  large  fan  suspended  from  the 
ceiling,  the  entire  length  of  the  table,  worked  by  a  rope, 
which  a  boy  pulls  with  his  hand. 

A  week  after  leaving  the  Canary  Islands  we  reached 
our  first  African  port,  Sierra  Leone.  It  has  the  finest 
harbour  on  the  entire  west  coast.  From  the  harbour  it 
is  very  beautiful,  with  mountains  of  intense  green  stand- 
ing like  sentinels  on  either  side  and  behind  the  town. 
The  sound  of  the  wind  raging  about  these  peaks,  like  the 
roaring  of  a  lion,  gives  the  name,  Sierra  Leone.  Despite 
its  attractive  appearance,  it  is  called  The  Whitemari's 
Grave,  and  its  history  justifies  the  name.  But  as  we  pro- 
ceed down  the  coast  we  find  that  every  place  which  has 
any  considerable  number  of  white  men  is  called  The 
Whitemari's  Grave.  The  name  Sierra  Leone  applies  to 
the  entire  English  colony  ;  that  of  the  town  at  this  place 
is  Freetown.  It  was  originally  a  colony  of  freed  slaves, 
which  the  English  planted  there  during  the  suppression 
of  the  slave  traffic.  The  first  ship-load  of  colonists,  be- 
tween four  and  five  hundred,  was  landed  in  1787.  Of 
these,  sixty  died  on  the  way  or  within  a  fortnight  after 
landing.  Freetown  has  now  a  population  of  thirty  thou- 
sand, and  is  prosperous.  Along  the  wharf  are  ware- 
houses with  roofs  of  corrugated  iron.  The  roofs  of  the 
traders'  houses  also,  both  here  and  all  along  the  coast, 
are  of  corrugated  iron.  Here  and  there  among  the  col- 


THE  VOYAGE  27 

ourless  huts  of  the  natives  there  stands  out  boldly  the 
frame  houses  of  successful  native  traders,  made  of  im- 
ported material  and  usually  painted  an  impudent  blue. 
Houses  with  floors  are  everywhere  called  deck-houses  ;  for 
the  decks  of  ships  were  the  first  floors  ever  seen  by  the 
natives. 

So  soon  as  we  had  anchored,  the  natives,  in  a  score  of 
boats,  were  crowding  about  the  gangway,  pushing  back 
each  other's  boats,  fighting,  cursing  and  yelling,  in  a 
general  strife  for  the  very  lucrative  privilege  of  rowing 
passengers  ashore.  However  otherwise  engaged  in  this 
scramble  they  are  all  yelling  ;  and  the  resultant  noise  is 
the  proper  introduction  to  Africa.  For,  as  noise  is  the 
first,  so  it  will  be  the  final  and  lasting  impression.  It  is 
the  grand  unity  in  which  other  associations  are  gradually 
dislimned.  We  went  ashore  in  the  late  afternoon.  The 
people  were  all  in  the  streets,  moving  about,  but  no  one 
moving  rapidly  ;  all  active,  but  no  one  very  active.  As 
there  are  no  vehicles,  pedestrians  occupy  the  whole 
street,  which  is  covered  with  grass.  There  is  a  great 
variety  of  dress  and  considerable  undress.  Many  of  the 
women  wear  a  loose  calico  wrapper — a  Mother  Hubbard  ; 
and  many  of  the  men  are  dressed  in  the  Mohammedan 
costume,  which  is  more  becoming,  and  more  suitable  for 
the  climate,  than  any  possible  modification  of  European 
dress.  It  consists  of  a  long  white  shirt  with  loose,  flow- 
ing sleeves,  and  an  outer  garment  somewhat  like  a  uni- 
versity gown,  of  black  or  of  blue.  The  ordinary  man 
wears  anything  he  may  happen  to  have,  from  an  eighth 
of  a  yard  of  calico  to  a  rice-bag  in  which  he  cuts  holes 
for  his  head  and  arms. 

Ever  so  many  were  carrying  loads  on  their  heads — 
never  any  other  way — and  without  touching  them  with 
their  hands.  Indeed,  if  their  hands  were  engaged  I  am 
not  sure  whether  they  could  talk  ;  for  when  they  talk 


28          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

they  gesticulate  continually.  Some  were  carrying  beer 
bottles  erect  on  their  heads,  some  carried  books,  some  of 
the  women  carried  folded  parasols  j  others  carried  fire- 
wood, or  bananas,  or  large  baskets  of  vegetables.  They 
exchange  the  neighbourhood  gossip  as  they  pass,  but 
without  turning  their  heads  ;  and  sometimes  they  throw 
down  their  loads  and  seat  themselves  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  street  to  have  "  a  friendly  yell."  When  we  returned 
to  the  steamer  we  found  on  board,  on  the  lower  deck, 
about  twenty  native  passengers.  They  have  brought  all 
their  household  goods,  including  chickens ;  and  several 
of  the  women  have  babies  strapped  to  their  backs.  They 
pay  only  for  a  passage  on  deck,  taking  the  risk  of  the 
weather,  and  expect  to  yell  their  way  to  Fernando  Po,  in 
about  two  weeks.  The  number  of  deck  passengers  in- 
creases at  each  of  the  next  several  ports,  until  the  deck  is 
crowded  j  but  they  are  never  allowed  on  the  upper 
deck. 

The  deck,  formerly  spacious  and  shining,  is  now  cov- 
ered with  baggage,  the  abundance  of  which  is  only  ex- 
ceeded by  its  outlandish  variety.  The  first  mate  is  the 
ship's  general  housekeeper.  Cleanliness  and  order  are 
a  mental  malady  with  him.  If  he  could  have  his  way 
the  ship  would  carry  no  cargo,  since  the  opening  of  the 
hatches  and  the  discharging  of  it  deranges  the  order  of 
the  lower  deck  and  litters  it  with  rubbish.  Besides  he 
would  like  to  employ  the  boat-crews  in  holystoning  one 
deck  or  another  all  the  time  instead  of  only  once  each 
morning.  The  sight  of  a  dog  affects  him  more  seriously 
than  seeing  a  ghost.  Passengers  are  a  great  trial  to  him 
who  carelessly  place  their  deck  chairs  for  comfort  or  for 
conversation  with  each  other  instead  of  leaving  them  in 
unneighbourly  straight  lines  as  he  arranged  them.  He 
is  rarely  on  speaking  terms  with  the  chief  engineer,  be- 
cause the  latter  must  frequently  have  coal  carried  from 


THE  VOYAGE  29 

the  forekold  ;  and  there  is  a  standing  feud  between  him 
and  the  cook,  whose  grease-tub  sits  outside  the  galley 
door.  The  mate's  sole  horror  of  a  storm  at  sea  is  that 
the  rolling  of  the  ship  spills  the  grease.  Imagine  the  life 
this  gentleman  lives  from  the  time  that  the  native  pas- 
sengers begin  to  come  aboard  and  fill  the  deck  with  their 
piles  of  miscellaneous  baggage.  He  ages  perceptibly. 
Disorder  is  precisely  the  weak  point  in  the  native  char- 
acter ;  and  much  of  the  mate's  time  is  spent  in  pitched 
battles  with  the  native  women,  over  the  bestowment  of 
their  goods.  No  sooner  has  he,  with  the  help  of  several 
deck-hands,  arranged  a  lady's  goods  in  a  neat  square  pile 
ten  feet  high  and  seated  her  children  in  a  straight  row 
than  the  lady  orders  all  her  children  to  get  out  of  her  way 
and  proceeds  to  tear  down  the  pile  in  order  to  get  a  cos- 
metic and  a  mirror  that  happen  to  be  in  two  different 
boxes  in  the  bottom.  When  the  mate  is  not  around  the 
deck  passengers  seem  very  happy  as  they  sit  at  random 
on  their  baggage  and  yell  at  each  other.  Here  and  there 
men  in  Mohammedan  dress  sit  on  the  sunny  deck  in 
cross-legged  tailor-fashion,  reminding  one  of  old  Bible 
pictures.  If  they  quarrel  a  great  deal  they  also  laugh  a 
great  deal,  and  the  quarrels  are  no  sooner  ended  than 
they  are  forgotten. 

At  Lagos  several  native  men  came  out  in  a  boat  to  meet 
a  deck  passenger  and  land  his  baggage.  The  natives  are 
not  allowed  to  use  the  gangway,  and  if  the  rope  ladder  is 
in  use  they  pass  up  and  down  a  single  rope  suspended 
over  the  ship's  side.  On  this  occasion  I  observed  one  of 
the  men  from  the  boat  alongside  sliding  down  a  rope  and 
carrying  a  heavy  box,  by  no  means  an  easy  thing  to  do. 
He  expected  that  the  others  of  his  party  would  be  waiting 
to  receive  him  in  the  boat  below.  But  they  had  drifted 
several  yards  away  and  were  engaged  in  eating  some  po- 
tato peelings  which  a  steward  had  thrown  to  them.  He 


30          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

called  to  them  but  they  paid  no  attention  : — they  were 
eating.  He  yelled  at  them  and  cursed  them,  at  the  same 
time  making  with  his  legs  impressive  gestures  of  appeal 
and  threat.  But  they  sat  indifferent  until  they  had  fin- 
ished, while  he  with  his  load  remained  suspended  in  the 
air.  Moreover,  the  sea  at  Lagos  abounds  with  sharks. 
At  last,  having  finished  their  repast,  they  came  to  his 
rescue.  I  was  watching  eagerly  to  see  how  many  would 
be  killed  in  the  ensuing  fight.  But  not  a  blow  was  struck, 
and  the  palaver  did  not  last  a  minute.  So  forgetful  are 
they  of  injuries.  And  though  they  are  capable  of  great 
cruelty  towards  their  enemies,  their  cruelty  is  callous 
rather  than  vindictive ;  not  the  cruelty  that  delights  in 
another7 s  pain,  but  rather  that  of  a  dull  imagination  which 
does  not  realize  it. 

A  few  days  after  leaving  Sierra  Leone  we  anchored  off 
Monrovia,  the  capital  of  Liberia,  where  we  shipped  eighty 
native  men,  Krumen,  who  were  engaged  by  the  ship  as 
workmen  for  the  discharging  and  loading  of  cargo.  They 
are  engaged  for  the  round  trip  down  the  coast,  three  or  four 
months,  and  are  unshipped  again  on  the  homeward  voy- 
age. Of  these  Krumen  I  shall  speak  at  some  length  in 
another  chapter.  They  are  the  original  native  tribe  of 
this  part  of  the  coast  and  are  not  to  be  confounded  with 
the  proper  Liberians  whose  ancestors  emigrated  from 
America. 

Liberia  represents  the  philanthropic  effort  of  America 
to  restore  to  their  native  land  the  Africans  carried  to 
America  by  the  slave-trade.  A  large  area  of  country  was 
purchased  from  the  native  chiefs,  and  in  1820  the  first 
settlement  of  colonists  was  established.  Liberia  is  a  coun- 
try of  possibilities.  There  is  no  richer  soil  on  the  entire 
west  coast.  It  is  especially  suitable  for  coffee  and  cocoa  ; 
but  it  has  remained  undeveloped.  The  poor  and  ignorant 
colonists  were  not  fit  for  self-government.  America 


THE  VOYAGE  31 

should  have  done  more  or  else  less.  The  Liberians  might 
far  better  have  remained  in  America.  During  the  several 
generations  of  their  absence  from  Africa  they  seemed  to 
have  lost  the  power  of  resisting  the  malaria.  The  mor- 
tality among  them  was  very  great  and  they  were  pitiably 
helpless.  The  government  of  Liberia  some  one  has  said 
is  a  fit  subject  for  comic  opera.  At  one  time  becoming 
possessed  of  a  little  cash,  by  some  wonderful  accident, 
they  provided  themselves  with  a  small  gunboat  by  which 
they  hoped  to  convince  calling  ships  that  theirs  is  a  real 
government  competent  to  collect  dues,  impose  fines,  and 
enforce  the  rules  of  quarantine  and  release  that  obtain  at 
other  ports,  for  which  purpose  it  has  proved  as  ineffective 
as  a  pop-gun.  But  they  have  used  it  successfully  against 
the  canoes  of  the  Krumen  in  levying  a  heavy  and  unjusti- 
fiable duty  upon  these  men  when  they  return  from  the 
south  voyage  with  their  pay. 

After  two  weeks  on  shipboard  the  immobility  of  life 
becomes  agreeable  and  we  are  all  content  to  be  lazy. 
And  in  the  evening  when  the  social  instinct  is  lively  and 
men  sit  together  at  leisure  in  the  balmy  breeze,  under  the 
canvas  roof,  on  a  well-lighted  deck,  the  sea  so  calm  as  to 
allay  all  apprehension,  a  wall  of  darkness  around  us,  and 
the  immensity  of  the  sea  beyond,  as  separate  from  the 
rest  of  the  world  as  would  be  some  tiny  planet  that  has 
separated  from  the  solid  earth  and  rotates  upon  its  own 
axis,  then  the  charm  of  travel  on  the  tropical  sea  is  all 
that  the  imagination  had  preconceived, — a  lazy,  luxurious 
dream.  When  Boswell  remarked  to  Johnson,  "  We  grow 
weary  when  idle,"  Johnson  replied:  "That  is,  sir,  be- 
cause others  being  busy,  we  want  company ;  but  if  all 
were  idle  there  would  be  no  growing  weary  ;  we  should 
entertain  one  another.'7  We  were  all  equally  idle  and 
lazy,  and  wished  we  could  be  lazier.  There  were  whole 
days  when  the  conversation — until  evening — contained 


32          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

nothing  more  epigrammatic  than  l  i  Please  pass  the  butter, ' ' 
or  "  Have  a  pickle  t " 

The  company  consists  of  traders,  government  officials 
and  missionaries  ;  and  the  captain  is  usually  present.  As 
our  number  diminishes  at  each  successive  port,  we  be- 
come better  acquainted  and  more  friendly.  Men  of  antip- 
odal differences  are  thus  frequently  brought  into  friendly 
and  sympathetic  relations,  men  who  in  ordinary  life 
would  seldom  have  been  brought  into  contact  with  each 
other,  and  who  never  would  have  known  that  they  had 
anything  in  common ;  and  the  experience  is  wholesome. 
I  have  learned  to  think  more  kindly  of  the  African  trader 
and  to  refrain  from  criticism  because  of  some  whom  I 
have  known  intimately  on  these  long  voyages. 

As  we  sit  on  deck  in  the  evening  the  captain  tells  us 
that  at  Lagos,  where  we  are  due  in  a  few  days,  he  has 
seen  the  natives  fight  the  sharks  in  the  sea  and  kill  them. 
The  shark  is  the  monster  of  the  tropical  seas,  the  incar- 
nation of  ferocity  and  hunger.  The  native  takes  a  stout 
stick,  six  inches  long  and  sharpened  at  both  ends.  With 
his  hand  closed  tight  around  this  he  dives  into  the  sea, 
and  as  the  shark  conies  at  him  with  its  terrible  mouth 
open,  he  thrusts  the  stick  upright  into  its  mouth  as  far  as 
he  can.  There  it  remains  planted  in  the  upper  and  lower 
jaws  of  the  shark,  which,  not  being  able  to  close  its  mouth, 
soon  drowns  and  comes  to  the  surface.  It  is  a  good  story, 
and  not  incredible  as  a  fact ;  for  the  native  is  brave  enough 
and  fool  enough  to  do  this  very  thing.  But  this  is  the 
same  captain  who  tells  of  fearful  storms  which  he  has  suc- 
cessfully encountered,  when  the  ship  rolled  until  she  took 
in  water  through  the  funnels.  He  remarked  to  me  one 
day,  speaking  of  one  of  his  officers  who  was  not  the  bright- 
est:  "I  always  have  to  verify  his  reckoning  ;  for  he  al- 
ways mistakes  east  for  west  and  invariably  puts  latitude 
where  longitude  ought  to  be."  He  also  tells  of  an  invi- 


THE  VOYAGE  33 

tation  lie  once  received  from  a  cannibal  chief  near  Old 
Calabar,  to  conie  ashore  and  help  him  pick  a  missionary. 
He  has  seen  the  sea-serpent  many  a  time  and  knows  all 
about  it.  It  is  not  dark  green  with  brown  stripes,  as  is 
generally  supposed,  but  is  bright  yellow  with  blue  spots, 
and  is  quite  three  hundred  feet  long.  On  one  occasion  it 
followed  the  captain's  ship  for  several  days,  at  times  rais- 
ing one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  its  length  out  of  the 
water,  and  being  prevented  from  helping  itself  to  a  sailor 
now  and  then  only  by  great  quantities  of  food  which  they 
threw  over  to  it.  This  caused  a  famine  on  board,  and 
they  reached  the  nearest  port  in  a  half-starved  condition. 
An  affidavit  goes  with  each  of  the  captain's  stories. 
Most  captains  indulge  in  this  entertaining  hyperbole. 
Some  are  decidedly  gifted  with  what  has  been  called  a 
"creative  memory."  I  have  never  yet  known  a 
captain  who  could  not  turn  out  as  handsome  a  yarn  as 
Gulliver. 

As  the  company  become  better  acquainted  conversation 
is  more  intimate  and  varied.  Now  we  are  discussing 
some  subject  of  continental  magnitude,  and  again,  with 
equal  interest,  some  infinitesimal  triviality.  Detached 
from  the  rest  of  the  world,  and  with  no  daily  budget  of 
news,  our  interest  becomes  torpid,  and  things  great  and 
small  appear  without  perspective  on  a  flat  surface  of 
equality.  We  avowed  our  disbelief  in  the  infallibility  of 
the  pope,  and  pronounced  against  his  claim  to  temporal 
authority.  We  anticipated  all  the  conclusions  of  the 
Hague  Conference,  and  discussed  the  imminence  of  the 
"  yellow  peril."  We  resolved  that  the  Crown  Colony 
system  was  a  failure  and  had  never  been  a  success,  and 
we  devised  an  elaborate  substitute  but  could  not  agree 
upon  the  details.  We  agreed  that  the  English  aristocracy 
had  long  been  effete,  and  that  the  Duke  of  X,  related  to 
the  queen,  was  a  "  hog."  We  reached  the  amicable  con- 


34:    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

elusion  that  the  thirteen  colonies  should  never  have  re- 
belled, and  that  the  blanie  was  all  on  the  side  of  England. 
We  left  posterity  nothing  to  say  on  the  relative  merits  of 
the  republican  and  the  monarchic  forms  of  government, 
and  decided  that  the  enfranchisement  of  the  negro  was  a 
mistake. 

In  juxtaposition  to  these  discussions,  one  man  occupied 
the  company  a  part  of  an  evening  recounting  the  entire 
history  of  his  corns  ;  but  I  regret  that  I  have  forgotten 
their  number  and  disposition.  Another  disclosed  the 
fact  that  he  always  wore  safety-pins  instead  of  garters, 
and  descanted  upon  his  preference  with  such  enthusiasm 
that  he  made  at  least  one  convert  that  I  know  of.  I  was 
carefully  told  how  to  mix  a  gin  cocktail  (though  I  may 
never  have  any  practical  use  for  this  valuable  knowledge) 
and  how  to  toss  a  champagne  cocktail  from  one  glass  to 
another  in  a  beautiful  parabolic  curve ;  also  how  many 
cocktails  a  man  might  drink  in  a  day  without  being 
chargeable  with  intemperance  :  in  short,  if  there  is  any- 
thing about  "  booze77  that  I  do  not  know  it  must  be  be- 
cause I  have  forgotten. 

One  night  (but  this  was  another  voyage  and  a  different 
kind  of  captain)  we  put  in  practice  the  principle  of  arbi- 
tration of  which  we  were  all  adherents  j  and  the  result 
was  my  discomfiture.  An  argument  had  arisen  among 
us  as  to  which  was  the  more  simple  of  the  two  currency 
systems,  dollars  and  cents,  and  pounds,  shillings  and  pence 
—as  if  there  were  logical  room  for  difference  of  opinion  ! 
At  last,  the  captain  arriving,  we  decided  to  refer  the  mat- 
ter to  him  and  to  surrender  our  judgment  to  his  arbitra- 
ment. The  captain  (an  Englishman  of  the  very  stolid 
sort),  after  a  period  of  reflection  replied  very  slowly,  and 
with  all  the  gravity  of  a  judge  :  "  Pounds,  shillings  and 
pence  is  the  simpler  system  ;  for,  don't  you  know,  that 
when  you  are  told  the  price  of  a  thing  in  dollars  and  cents 


THE  VOYAGE  35 

you  always,  in  your  mind,  convert  it  into  pounds,  shill- 
ings and  pence." 

"  Of  course,  Captain,"  said  I ;  "  I  had  not  thought  of 
that  until  you  mentioned  it ;  neither  had  I  recalled  the 
well-known  fact  that  a  Frenchman,  while  speaking 
French  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  is  really  thinking  in  Eng- 
lish. Your  decision  is  as  shrewd  as  it  is  impartial." 


II 

THE  COAST 

BUT  the  pleasure  of  the  voyage  depends  largely 
upon  the  season.  The  wet  and  the  dry  seasons  are 
distinctly  divided.  There  is  a  long  wet  season  of 
four  mouths  and  a  short  wet  season  of  two  months  each 
year,  and  corresponding  long  and  short  dry  seasons.  The 
rains  generally  follow  the  course  of  the  sun  as  it  moves 
between  the  northern  and  southern  solstice.  The  regu- 
larity of  the  seasons  is  modified  by  local  influences  such 
as  the  proximity  of  mountains.  The  seasons  at  Batanga, 
for  instance,  are  not  so  distinctly  divided  as  at  Gaboon. 
I  am  most  familiar  with  the  climate  of  Gaboon,  which  is 
practically  at  the  equator.  The  long  wet  season  begins 
in  September,  when  the  sun  is  coursing  from  the  equator 
towards  the  southern  solstice,  and  continues  nearly  four 
months.  The  long  dry  season  begins  in  May  and  con- 
tinues for  four  months.  Those  are  the  delightful  mouths 
of  the  year.  We  are  accustomed  to  associate  a  dry  spell 
with  heat  and  glaring  sunshine.  But  there  the  brightest 
sunshine  is  in  the  wet  season  between  the  showers.  The 
dry  season  is  both  cool  and  shady  ;  so  cool  that  the  na- 
tives find  it  uncomfortable,  while  the  sun  is  sometimes  not 
seen  for  a  week.  It  always  seems  to  be  just  about  to  rain. 
A  stranger  to  the  climate  would  not  risk  going  half  a 
mile  without  taking  an  umbrella.  But  he  is  perfectly 
safe.  There  is  not  the  least  danger  of  rain  between  May 
and  September.  Often  in  the  dry  season  I  have  travelled 
through  the  midday  hours  in  a  canoe,  lying  full  length  on 
a  travelling-rug  with  my  face  towards  the  sky  j  for  there 

36 


THE  COAST  37 

is  no  glare :  the  mellow  light  has  the  quality  of  moon- 
light. 

But  a  strong  wind  prevails  during  the  dry  months,  and 
it  is  the  season  when  the  surf  rages  wildly  on  the  open 
coast ;  when  surf  boats  with  cargo  are  often  broken  on 
the  beach  and  the  native  crews  lose  their  limbs  and  some- 
times their  lives.  The  ground  though  very  dry  does  not 
become  parched.  The  rustling  of  the  palms  or  of  the 
thatch  roof  at  the  close  of  the  season  is  like  the  heavy 
pattering  of  rain,  so  much  so  that  sometimes  one  is  de- 
ceived in  spite  of  himself.  The  dry  season  is  healthiest 
for  white  men,  but  not  for  the  native.  They  are  not  suf- 
ficiently protected  against  the  wind,  and  pneumonia  is 
common.  However  much  we  prefer  the  dry  season,  yet 
we  weary  of  it  towards  the  close,  and  like  the  natives  we 
fairly  shout  for  joy  at  the  first  shower. 

The  wet  season  is  very  disagreeable.  The  rain  falls  in 
streams,  and,  as  Miss  Kingsley  says,  "does  not  go  into 
details  with  drops.'7  There  are  several  torrential  down- 
pours each  day  and  night.  In  the  intervals  during  the 
day  the  sky  is  swept  clear  of  clouds  and  the  sun  shines 
the  strongest.  The  atmosphere  is  extremely  humid  and 
sultry.  With  the  least  exertion,  or  with  no  exertion,  one 
perspires  profusely,  and  there  is  no  evaporation.  One 
ought  to  change  his  clothing  several  times  a  day ;  but 
most  of  us  cannot  afford  to  devote  so  much  time  to  com- 
fort. Frequent  tornadoes  often  cool  the  air  in  the  even- 
ing. 

The  most  uncomfortable  of  all  places  during  the  rain  is 
on  shipboard.  The  rain  will  at  length  find  its  way 
through  any  thickness  of  awning,  and  the  delightful  deck 
must  be  deserted  for  the  stifling  saloon.  Our  paradise  is 
transformed  to  a  purgatory.  The  rain  is  accompanied  by 
a  heavy  mist  and  as  it  dashes  upon  the  surface  of  the  sea 
it  lifts  a  cloud  of  spray  that  hides  the  water  beneath  and 


38          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

we  seein  to  be  drifting  courseless  through  cloudland,  with 
our  horizon  immediately  around  us.  As  it  continues  day 
after  day  everybody  becomes  depressed  j  and  as  for  the 
captain,  it  is  scarcely  safe  to  speak  to  him.  One  day  when 
I  was  travelling  in  the  wet  season,  the  captain  lost  a 
whole  day  prowling  up  and  down  the  coast  looking  for  a 
place  which  was  completely  hidden  in  the  rain  and  mist. 
He  was  angry  j  and  an  angry  captain  is  a  fearsome  object. 
He  is  accustomed  to  being  obeyed,  and  is  master  of 
everything  else  but  the  fourth  element,  which  occasion- 
ally thwarts  his  plans  and  derides  his  authority.  At  a 
moment  when  the  rain  slackened  from  a  torrent  to  a 
heavy  shower,  a  passenger  put  his  head  out  on  deck  and 
remarked  :  "  It's  not  raining,  Captain." 

"Well,  if  that  is  not  rain,"  thundered  the  disgusted 
captain,  "  it  is  the  best  imitation  of  rain  that  I  have  ever 
seen." 

The  subject  upon  which  conversation  dwells  longest 
and  to  which  it  ever  returns  with  gruesome  interest  is  the 
African  fever.  The  news  that  is  brought  on  board  at 
each  port  is  like  a^death  bulletin.  To  the  new  comer  it 
is  all  very  trying  and  very  tragical.  But  he  cannot  es- 
cape from  it ;  for  the  Old  Coaster  (and  a  man  who  has 
been  out  once  before  is  an  Old  Coaster)  assumes  the  grave 
responsibility  of  impressing  deeply  upon  the  mind  of  the 
tenderfoot  the  serious  conditions  which  he  is  about  to 
confront.  It  is  impressed  upon  him  that  the  fever  is  in- 
evitable, and  that  the  young  and  healthy  die  first ;  that 
temperate  habits  instead  of  being  a  defense  are  a  snare, 
and  that  not  to  drink  is  simply  suicide.  Missionaries  die 
like  flies.  But  then  of  course  it  comes  to  the  same  thing 
in  the  end  j  there  is  no  escape  ;  and  to  worry  about  it,  or 
to  expect  it,  will  bring  on  a  fever  in  two  days.  Exposure 
to  the  sun  is  sure  to  induce  fever  ;  and  yet  none  die  so 
quickly  as  those  who  carry  umbrellas.  Quinine  is  use- 


THE  COAST  39 

less  except  to  brace  the  mind  of  those  who  believe  in  it  j 
but  it  isn't  any  good.  And  when  you  get  fever,  you 
can't  escape,  by  leaving  the  coast  in  a  hurry,  even  if 
there  should  be  a  steamer  in  port,  which  is  very  unlikely  ; 
for  a  man  going  aboard  with  fever  is  sure  to  die.  Per- 
haps it  is  the  horror  of  being  buried  at  sea  that  kills 
him. 

"How  is  that  new  clerk  whom  I  brought  out  for  you 
last  voyage?"  asks  the  captain,  of  a  trader  who  has 
come  aboard  for  breakfast. 

"Poor  chap!"  says  the  trader,  "he  didn't  live  two 
weeks.  Another  came  on  the  next  steamer,  and  he 
pegged  out  in  three  weeks.  They  ought  to  be  sent  out 
two  at  a  time." 

"  You  remember  so-and-so,"  says  another ;  "well,  poor 
chap  !  (and  as  soon  as  he  says  "poor  chap  "  we  know  the 
rest)  he  was  found  dead  in  bed  one  morning  since  you 
were  here.  They  had  used  up  all  the  lumber  that  they 
had  laid  away  for  coffins,  so  they  took  half  the  partition 
out  of  his  house,  to  make  a  coffin  ;  and  then  they  didn't 
get  it  long  enough.  The  next  fellow  is  now  living  alone 
in  that  same  house  with  half  the  partition  gone,  and  of 
course  he  can't  help  reflecting  that  there  is  just  enough 
left  to  make  another  coffin  ;  and,  indeed,  to  judge  by  the 
way  he  was  looking  when  I  saw  him  last  they  may  have 
used  it  by  this  time." 

"Have  you  heard  about  the  poor  chap  that  so-and-so 
sent  up  country?  Well,  he  died  a  few  weeks  ago. 
He  was  all  alone  except  for  the  native  workmen,  and  as 
soon  as  he  died  they  ran  away  in  fear.  The  agent  got 
word  of  it  and  started  up  country  immediately  ;  but  the 
rats  had  found  him  first." 

It  is  only  when  one  reflects  that  all  these  "  poor  chaps" 
were  somebody's  sons,  and  somebody's  brothers,  that  one 
realizes  the  tragedy  of  the  coast.  These  little  con  versa- 


40          THP:  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

tions  on  board  seem  like  the  final  obsequies  performed  for 
those  who  are  dead. 

"Do  men  ever  die  of  anything  except  fever?"  asks  a 
new  comer. 

"  O  yes,"  says  the  Old  Coaster.  "  Let  me  see  :  there's 
dysentery, — poor  C  died  of  that  last  week  ;  and  there's 
enlarged  spleen,  abscesses,  pneumonia,  consumption 
(one  falls  into  consumption  here  very  quickly,  and  often 
when  he  least  expects  it),  kraw-kraw  and  smallpox 
(smallpox  has  just  broken  out  at  Fernando  Po :  that's 
our  next  port),  not  to  speak  of  seven  or  eight  varieties  of 
itch,  which  some  men  have  all  the  time ;  but  itch  doesn't 
kill.  By  the  way,  I  suppose  you  know  that  in  this  cli- 
mate it  is  necessary  that  bodies  be  buried  a  few  hours 
after  death." 

In  the  speech  of  the  coast  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
reticence,  and  soon  enough  we  all  learn  to  speak  with 
brutal  bluntness.  The  only  comfort  held  out  to  the  new 
comer  is  the  hope  that  he  will  receive,  as  a  sort  of 
obituary,  the  kindly  designation,  "  Poor  Chap." 

I  have  never  argued  for  the  salubrity  of  the  African 
climate  ;  nor  am  I  disposed  to  protest  the  general  opinion 
that  it  is  "  the  worst  climate  in  the  world."  The  white 
man  never  becomes  acclimatized,  and  never  will  until  he 
develops  another  kind  of  blood.  One  lives  face  to  face 
with  the  constant  and  proximate  possibility  of  death  as 
long  as  he  is  on  the  coast.  It  is  an  unnatural  conscious- 
ness, which,  when  prolonged  through  years,  tends  to  be- 
come fixed  and  permanent  even  when  one  has  removed 
from  the  circumstances  that  were  its  occasion.  And  yet, 
the  conversation  of  the  Old  Coaster  is  liable  to  make  an 
exaggerated  impression.  In  the  first  place,  the  impres- 
sion is  natural  that  the  climate  being  so  unhealthful  must 
also  be  uncomfortable.  But,  in  reality,  while  several 
months  of  the  year  are  extremely  uncomfortable,  the 


THE  COAST  41 

greater  part  of  the  year  is  tolerably  comfortable  and  there 
are  several  months  of  exceedingly  pleasant  weather. 
Neither  is  the  heat  so  great  as  is  generally  supposed. 
With  the  greatest  effort  on  my  part,  I  never  succeeded  in 
disabusing  my  friends  of  the  notion  that  I  was  slowly 
roasting  to  death  in  Africa.  With  every  hot  spell  in 
America,  when  the  thermometer  was  standing  at  100°, 
their  thoughts  turned  towards  me  in  profound  sympathy. 
While  I  have  at  times  suffered  with  the  heat  and  there 
have  been  times  on  the  river,  between  high  banks,  cut 
off  from  the  breeze,  when  I  nearly  fainted,  and  one  oc- 
casion upon  which  I  was  quite  overcome,  yet  as  a  rule  I 
lived  comfortably  by  day ;  and  the  nights  are  always  cool. 
The  maximum  temperature  on  the  coast  is  from  86°  to  88°, 
Fahrenheit,  and  even  such  a  temperature  is  rare.  One 
ought  to  add,  however,  that  owing  to  the  extreme 
humidity  this  temperature  in  Africa  is  incomparably 
hotter  than  the  same  temperature  in  America.  It  is  the 
sultriness  of  the  hottest  weather  that  makes  it  insuffer- 
able. West  Africa  is  heated  by  steam  and  without  the 
medium  of  radiators.  The  uniformity  of  the  climate  is 
pleasurable,  and  is  very  strange  to  us  of  northern  lati- 
tudes. One  may  reckon  upon  the  weather  to  a  certainty. 
Within  the  limits  of  a  given  season  there  is  scarcely  any 
variation  from  day  to  day. 

The  insalubrity  is  due  to  the  deadly  malaria  of  the 
reeking,  mosquito-infested  swamps.  Mr.  Henry  Savage 
Laudor,  after  a  journey  across  Africa,  announces  to  the 
world  that  he  is  a  strong  disbeliever  in  the  mosquito 
theory  of  malaria.  But,  that  the  mosquito  is  the  agent 
of  the  malaria  bacillus,  medical  science  no  longer  regards 
as  theory,  but  as  fact,  a  fact  established  by  the  most 
elaborate  and  painstaking  series  of  experiments  ever 
conducted  in  the  interest  of  medical  science.  Mr.  Landor 
also  tells  us  that  he  and  his  men  were  frequently  attacked 


42          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

by  malarial  fever,  becoming  so  weak  that  they  could  not 
raise  their  hands  ;  but  in  every  case  a  dose  of  castor-oil 
effected  a  cure  in  a  few  hours.  He  is  therefore  a  strong 
advocate  of  castor- oil,  but  disbelieves  in  quinine.  The 
use  of  castor-oil  is  no  new  discovery.  Every  man  who 
has  had  any  experience  in  "West  Africa  takes  it  at  the 
approach  of  a  fever.  But  there  is  no  substitute  for 
quinine.  And  the  medical  men  of  the  coast  will  agree 
in  saying  that  life  depends  always  upon  the  judicious  use 
of  it. 

In  recent  years  there  has  been  such  progress  in  the 
knowledge  of  malaria,  and  how  to  meet  malarial  condi- 
tions, that  the  record  of  West  Africa  is  continually  im- 
proving. Then  again,  missionary  societies,  following  the 
example  of  the  various  European  governments,  have 
ceased  to  make  war  upon  the  inevitable  and  have  greatly 
reduced  the  term  of  service.  In  American  missions  the 
term  is  generally  three  years ;  in  English  missions  it  is  a 
year  and  a  half  or  two  years ;  and  in  the  government 
service  the  term  is  usually  much  shorter  thau  in  the  mis- 
sions. My  first  experience  in  Africa  was  not  a  fair  test 
of  the  climate.  We  were  engaged  in  opening  a  new  mis- 
sion station  in  the  bush,  and  the  conditions  were  the  most 
unhealthful.  Our  food  was  the  coarsest, — it  was  several 
months  before  we  tasted  bread  ;  our  accommodations  were 
the  poorest, — part  of  the  time  we  lived  in  a  tent  that  did 
not  protect  us  against  the  heavy  rains  ;  and  besides  there 
were  forced  journeys  to  the  coast  in  the  wet  season  with 
incidental  hardships.  After  a  succession  of  fevers  and 
sensational  recoveries  I  fled  from  the  coast  with  broken 
health  at  the  end  of  a  year  and  a  half. 

But  the  second  time,  when  I  lived  at  Gaboon,  I  stayed 
five  and  a  half  years, — far  too  long.  During  the  first 
three  years  at  Gaboon  I  had  fever  once  every  two  or  three 
months.  I  became  very  familiar  with  its  preceding 


THE  COAST  43 

symptoms — physical  exhaustion  for  several  days,  such 
that  the  least  effort  induced  painful  weariness  and  a  fre- 
quent heavy  sigh  j  aching  of  head  and  limbs ;  chills  al- 
ternating rapidly  with  feverish  heat,  and  a  terrible  tem- 
per. At  the  end  of  the  third  year  I  had  a  very  severe 
fever  which,  instead  of  yielding  to  quinine  the  third  day, 
became  much  worse,  and  the  natives  carried  me  in  a  ham- 
mock to  the  French  hospital.  There  I  remained  for  five 
weeks.  But  after  that  I  had  no  more  fever,  not  even  once, 
though  I  remained  in  Africa  more  than  two  years  longer, 
which  would  have  been  absolutely  impossible  if  the  fevers 
had  continued.  The  difference  was  in  my  use  of  quinine. 
At  first  I  took  quinine  only  with  the  attacks  of  fever,  and 
then  I  took  an  enormous  quantity.  But  in  the  later 
period  I  kept  myself  immune  by  taking  it  daily  whether 
I  was  ill  or  not.  I  took  five  grains  every  night  for  those 
several  years.  People  are  usually  greatly  surprised  at 
this  and  ask  if  such  an  amount  of  quinine  was  not  a  terrible 
strain  upon  the  constitution.  It  was,  without  doubt ;  but 
not  so  great  a  strain  as  malarious  blood,  and  frequent 
fevers,  and  the  shock  of  very  large  doses  of  quinine  at 
such  times.  If  I  had  not  been  in  greatly  reduced  health 
before  I  began  to  take  it  regularly  it  is  not  likely  that  I 
should  have  required  nearly  so  much.  But  this  is  antici- 
pating ;  for  we  are  still  on  the  outward  voyage. 

In  general  the  coast  of  West  Africa  is  not  beautiful ; 
although  it  has  a  weird  fascination  for  those  who  have 
once  lived  on  it.  It  is  low-lying,  straight  and  monotonous  : 
a  gleaming  line  of  white  surf,  a  golden  strip  of  sandy 
beach,  a  dark  green  line  of  forest — and  that  is  all,  for 
days  and  days  and  days,  and  for  some  two  thousand  miles, 
only  broken  at  long  intervals  by  the  great  estuary  that  is 
a  peculiar  characteristic  of  African  rivers,  and  by  low 
hills  far  away  on  the  horizon.  Many  of  the  traders  are 
living,  not  in  the  white  settlements,  but  in  single  trading- 


44:    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

houses  and  far  apart  along  this  lonely  shore.  They  like 
it  or  they  hate  it.  To  some  it  is  an  idle  dream-life  that 
they  enjoy,  and  to  others  it  is  a  nightmare  that  they  ab- 
hor. Some  of  those  who  came  aboard  looked  like  haunted 
men.  Each  day  is  exactly  like  all  the  others,  and  the 
natural  surroundings  never  vary  however  far  they  may 
wander  along  the  beach— three  endless  lines  of  colour 
stretching  away  to  eternity,  the  dull  green  forest  front, 
the  yellow  .strip  of  sand,  the  white  surge  of  the  foaming 
surf,  and  beyond  it  the  boundless  sea.  Even  in  the  dark- 
est night  the  forest  still  shows  as  a  blacker  rim  against  the 
darkness,  and  the  surf-line  is  white  with  a  whiteness  that 
no  night  can  obscure.  The  unceasing  sound  of  it  is  like 
low  thunder,  and  unless  one  loves  it  he  must  often  think 
what  a  relief  it  would  be  if  it  would  stop  but  for  one  brief 
moment,  and  how  the  silence  would  "sink  like  music  on 
his  heart." 

In  such  places,  and  in  the  bush,  the  traders  sometimes 
wear  only  pajamas,  by  day  as  well  as  night.  There  are 
natives  enough  around,  and  there  is  always  noise  enough  ; 
but  it  is  the  noise  that  only  emphasizes  solitude.  And 
one  were  better  to  live  entirely  alone  than  to  be  subjected 
to  the  influence  of  African  degradation  without  the  moral 
restraints  of  home  and  the  society  of  equals,  unless  his  re- 
ligious belief  be  something  more  than  a  mere  acceptance 
of  tradition,  and  his  principles  something  more  than  con- 
ventional morality.  There  is  a  better  class  of  natives 
whose  society  might  relieve  loneliness,  but  the  trader,  as 
a  rule,  does  not  gather  this  class  around  him. 

Some  are  pleased  to  say  very  hard  things  about  the 
traders.  But  he  who  would  judge  justly  must  have  a 
mind  well  attempered  to  the  claims  of  morality  on  the 
one  hand,  and  on  the  other,  to  the  allowance  due  to  the 
frailty  of  human  nature  when  placed  in  circumstances  of 
unparalleled  temptation.  No  man  ever  realizes  the  moral 


THE  COAST  45 

restraints  of  good  society  until  they  are  all  withdrawn  ; 
nor  how  insidious  the  influence  even  of  the  most  repulsive 
vices  when  they  have  become  so  common  to  our  eyes  that 
they  cease  to  shock  :  the  moral  safety  of  most  men  is  in 
being  shocked.  Of  course  there  are  bad  men  among  the 
traders,  and  some  very  bad ;  and  the  rumshop  which, 
wherever  the  white  man  has  penetrated,  rises  like  a  death- 
spectre  in  the  landscape,  is  an  abomination  to  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  do  injustice.  But  it  is  not  chiefly 
the  trader  who  is  responsible  for  the  rum  traffic.  Many 
of  them  would  be  thankful  if  the  various  governments 
would  entirely  prohibit  its  importation.  Moreover,  they 
sell  a  thousand  things  besides  rum, — as  many  useful 
things,  and  necessary  to  civilization,  as  the  native  is  will- 
ing to  buy.  The  traders  are  all  men  of  courage — we  can 
at  least  admire  them  for  that— and  many  are  honest  and 
many  are  kind ;  and  it  were  far  better  to  refrain  from 
condemning  the  dissolute  than  that  in  so  doing  one  should 
soil  the  reputation  of  an  honest  man. 

We  called  at  Cape  Coast  Castle,  Accra,  Lagos,  Mon- 
rovia and  several  other  places  where  there  are  no  har- 
bours, and  where  the  surf  is  so  violent  that  passengers 
rarely  go  ashore  unless  these  places  are  their  destination. 
The  longest  stop  on  the  voyage  was  at  Old  Calabar,  sixty 
miles  up  the  Calabar  Eiver,  where  we  stayed  five  days. 
Old  Calabar  when  I  was  there  first  was  the  English  capi- 
tal of  the  Oil  Eivers  Protectorate,  which  afterwards  be- 
came a  part  of  Nigeria.  The  heat  was  insufferable ;  for, 
while  it  is  possible  to  keep  cool  on  the  hills  where  the 
white  men  live,  it  is  not  possible  in  the  low  channel  of  the 
river,  and  especially  in  the  cabin  of  a  steamer.  The 
name  Old  Calabar  has  a  fine  far-away  sound,  like  Cairo  or 
Bagdad,  and  suggests  a  place  of  romantic  and  legendary 
interest.  And  indeed  the  tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights 
scarcely  surpass  the  real  history  of  the  native  despots  that 


46          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

have  ruled  at  Old  Calabar  even  down  to  the  death  of  King 
Duke  in  our  own  times,  when,  despite  the  presence  of  the 
English,  it  is  said  that  five  hundred  natives  were  stealth- 
ily put  to  death  to  furnish  the  king  a  seemly  retinue  in 
the  other  world. 

The  run  up  the  Calabar  Eiver  is  a  pleasant  variety  after 
the  long  weeks  on  the  sea.  Here  we  first  saw  the  croco- 
dile, which  abounds  in  all  the  largest  rivers  of  Africa. 
It  is  the  ugliest  beast  in  the  world.  Lying  on  a  bank  of 
mud,  its  head  always  towards  the  water,  and  among  old 
logs  and  roots,  it  looks  itself  like  some  gnarled  and  slimy 
log,  and  is  difficult  to  discern.  But  at  the  sound  of  a  gun 
or  the  near  approach  of  the  steamer  it  slides  down  into 
the  water  quick  as  a  flash.  Most  of  the  passengers  get 
their  guns  and  take  a  few  shots  at  them.  In  every  case 
the  passenger  declares  that  he  has  shot  the  crocodile  with- 
out a  doubt  j  and  as  the  creature  disappears  into  the  water 
there  is  of  course  no  way  of  disproving  the  statement. 
But  when  we  were  coming  down  the  river  there  seemed  to 
be  as  many  as  ever. 

The  Spanish  Island  of  Fernando  Po  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful place  in  West  Africa.  Seen  from  the  harbour  in  the 
early  morning  light  or  in  the  soft  glow  of  the  evening  it 
is  a  fairy-land  of  tropical  beauty.  The  bottom  of  the 
semicircular  harbour  is  the  crater  of  an  extinct  volcano 
and  is  very  deep.  The  bank  is  covered  down  to  the 
water  with  a  lavish  growth  of  ferns,  and  trailing  vines, 
and  flowers  of  many  colours  ;  while  above  the  palm  tree 
is  abundant — the  most  graceful  of  all  trees,  and  the  bil- 
lowy bamboo  tosses  in  the  breeze.  In  the  middle  and  ex- 
tending backwards  is  the  white  town  of  Saint  Isabel,  and 
behind  the  town  stands  a  great  solitary  mountain  of 
green,  which  rises  to  a  height  of  ten  thousand  feet.  Like 
other  fairy-lands  it  requires  the  illusion  of  distance.  It 
appears  best  from  the  harbour,  and  that  is  true  of  most 


THE  COAST  47 

tropical  beauty.  The  soil  is  the  most  fertile  in  West 
Africa.  I  have  seen  plantains  there  full  twice  as  large  as 
any  that  I  have  seen  elsewhere.  For  some  years  it  has 
been  producing  large  quantities  of  cocoa,  most  of  which 
is  shipped  to  Spain  and  thence  over  the  world  in  the  form 
of  chocolate. 

Africa  is  a  land  of  extremes.  From  Fernando  Po 
crossing  again  to  the  mainland  we  went  fifteen  miles  up 
the  Eio  del  Eey  to  the  ugliest  place  in  the  world.  I  have 
also  been  in  the  Eio  del  Eey  several  times  on  the  home- 
ward voyage,  when  the  steamers  usually  spend  a  day 
there  taking  on  palm-oil  and  rubber, — a  coast  steamer 
would  go  to  Hades  for  palm-oil  and  take  all  the  pas- 
sengers along  with  it.  There  is  no  native  village  here. 
The  three  trading-houses  receive  the  produce  which  the 
natives  bring  down  the  river.  All  around  is  one  vast 
mangrove  swamp,  an  ideal  mosquito -incubator.  The 
trading-houses  are  erected  upon  a  foundation  made  with 
the  ashes  of  passing  steamers,  which  were  saved  and  de- 
posited here. 

The  foliage  of  the  mangrove  is  thin,  and  at  a  distance 
resembles  our  poplar.  But  the  greater  part  of  the  man- 
grove is  a  solid  mass  of  roots,  almost  wholly  above  ground 
and  more  nearly  vertical  than  horizontal.  The  trees 
seem  to  be  standing  on  stilts,  six  or  eight  feet  long,  as  if 
they  were  trying  to  keep  out  of  the  water.  There  are 
also  aerial  roots,  long,  leafless  and  straight,  depending 
from  all  the  branches,  even  the  highest,  which  as  they 
reach  the  water  spread  into  several  fingers.  At  the  high 
tide  the  roots  are  submerged  and  the  ugliness  of  the 
swamp  concealed  for  a  while.  But  as  the  tide  ebbs  the 
roots  appear  dripping  and  slimy  until  they  are  completely 
exposed  :  and  as  the  water  still  recedes  long  stretches  of 
foetid  mud-bank  appear.  The  smell  has  been  accumulat- 
ing for  ages.  A  low-lying  mist  rises  from  the  oozing 


4:8    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

banks,  and  now  and  then  stretches  a  stealthy  arm  out 
over  the  river,  or  creeps  from  root  to  root.  Some  one 
standing  near  exclaimed  :  u  O  heavens,  what  a  place  !  " 
I  could  only  wonder  at  the  geographical  direction  of  his 
thoughts;  for  my  thoughts  were  of  Gehenna  and  the 
river  Styx.  The  mangrove  swamp  is  surely  the  worst 
that  nature  has  ever  been  known  to  do.  My  feeling  of 
disgust  was  intensified  by  many  experiences  of  after 
years.  Sometimes  approaching  a  town  at  the  ebbing  tide, 
a  strong  native  has  carried  me  on  his  back  from  the  boat 
to  the  solid  bank,  across  a  waste  of  sludge,  and  some- 
times he  has  fallen  in  the  act.  Other  times,  when  one 
could  not  wade,  they  have  thrown  me  a  line  and  have 
dragged  me  across  in  a  canoe  ;  and  I  felt  that  if  the  canoe 
should  capsize  I  would  sink  almost  forever  ;  or,  perhaps 
be  dug  up  twenty  thousand  years  hence  and  exhibited  as 
a  pre-historic  specimen.  "  Every  prospect  pleases," 
reads  the  hymn,  "  and  only  man  is  vile."  But  the  worst 
debris  of  humanity  is  not  half  so  vile  as  the  prospect  of 
a  mangrove  swamp  at  low  tide. 

The  death  record  of  the  Eio  del  Eey  is  appalling. 
Every  time  that  I  have  been  there — seven  times — the 
traders  that  came  on  board  looked  like  dying  men  ;  and 
often  their  limbs  were  bandaged  for  ulcers  or  kraw-kraw. 
I  was  once  on  board  when  an  English  missionary  and  his 
wife  debarked  at  this  place,  expecting  to  go  on  up  the 
river,  beyond  the  swamps,  to  the  mission  station  in  the 
hills  of  the  interior.  The  lady  was  becoming  more  and 
more  fearful  during  the  voyage,  and  the  effect  upon  her 
of  this  lower  river  was  such  that  she  was  almost  hyster- 
ical. She  remained  on  board  all  day  until  we  were  about 
to  weigh  the  anchor.  The  'first  impression  counts  for 
much  in  the  matter  of  health  and  resistance  to  the  fever  ; 
and  the  sight  of  that  shrinking  woman  going  ashore  in 
such  a  place  was  pitiable ;  for  we  all  felt  that  she  was 


THE  COAST  49 

doomed.  After  a  few  months,  however,  she  escaped  with 
her  life  ;  but  she  was  never  able  to  return  to  Africa. 
The  mangrove  swamp  stretches  along  the  greater  part  of 
the  coast  of  West  Africa,  and  along  the  rivers  where  the 
water  is  salt  or  brackish  because  of  the  flow  of  the  tide 
from  the  sea. 

The  next  experience  after  the  Eio  del  Eey  was  a  greater 
contrast  than  ever.  We  proceeded  forty  miles  southward 
and  called  at  Victoria,  in  the  German  colony  of  Camer- 
oon. The  harbour  at  Victoria  is  divided  from  the  sea  by 
a  semicircle  of  islands,  some  small  and  some  larger.  One 
of  these  islands,  a  large  barren  rock,  when  seen  from  a  cer- 
tain part  of  the  beach,  bears  a  singular  though  grotesque 
resemblance  to  Queen  Victoria  as  she  appeared  when 
seated  upon  the  throne.  It  is  presumably  from  this  that 
the  place  was  given  the  name  Victoria ;  for  the  English 
traders  were  there  before  Germany  occupied  the  territory. 

Immediately  behind  the  harbour  is  the  great  Mount 
Cameroon,  one  of  the  greatest  mountains  in  the  world,  a 
solitary  peak,  which  rises  immediately  from  the  sea  to  a 
height  of  13, 700  feet ;  which  is  twelve  hundred  feet  higher 
than  Teneriffe.  It  was  evening  as  we  approached,  and 
before  we  had  entered  the  harbour  it  was  night ;  for  in 
the  tropics  day  darkens  quickly  into  night  and  there  is 
no  twilight.  But  on  the  top  of  the  mountain,  far  above 
our  night,  we  still  saw  the  rose-red  of  the  lingering  day. 
The  moon  rose  behind  the  mountain  and  we  steered  into 
the  shadow  of  it  closer  and  closer,  for  by  night  it  seemed 
much  nearer  than  it  really  was.  The  number  of  passen- 
gers had  diminished  to  a  very  few,  and  they  were  silent ; 
not  a  voice  was  heard  on  the  deck.  It  was  the  strangest 
silence  I  have  ever  experienced ;  not  the  mere  negation 
of  sound,  but  like  something  positive,  and  diffused  from 
the  mountain  itself;  a  silence  more  impressive  than 
speech  ;  the  silence  of  an  infinite  comprehension.  The 


50          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

engines  stopped  :  we  were  ready  to  cast  the  anchor,  and 
I  found  myself  wondering  how  the  captain's  voice  would 
sound  when  in  a  moment  he  would  shout :  "  Let  go." 

"  How  fit  a  place,"  someone  at  length  remarked,  " for 
the  sounding  of  the  last  trumpet  and  the  final  judgment ! 
before  this  mountain  which  has  looked  down  unchanged 
upon  all  the  generations  that  have  come  and  passed  away 
since  the  world  began." 

It  is  not  always  silent,  however,  for  the  natives,  with 
some  sense  of  its  majesty,  call  it  the  "  Throne  of  Thunder." 
Fierce  storms  wage  battle  around  its  middle  height,  with 
terrific  peals  of  thunder  such  as  I  have  never  heard  else- 
where. Sometimes  for  many  days  it  wraps  itself  in 
clouds  and  darkness,  completely  invisible.  I  was  once  a 
whole  week  at  various  ports  within  a  few  miles  of  it,  and 
did  not  catch  a  glimpse  of  it.  The  clouds  wrapped  it 
about  to  the  very  base,  and  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 
that  it  was  there  except  the  unusual  frequency  of  storm 
and  thunder.  Then,  one  day  when  we  were  at  Victoria, 
the  weather  brightened  so  much  that  we  expected  soon  to 
see  the  peak.  I  asked  a  native  attendant,  a  young  man, 
to  watch  for  it  and  tell  me  if  he  saw  it.  At  length,  while 
I  was  sitting  on  deck  watching  for  it  myself,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  The  peak  !  Mr.  Milligan,  the  peak  ! " 

"  Where  ?  "  I  said.    "I  don't  see  it." 

"Look  higher,"  he  exclaimed. 

1  ( I  am  looking  as  high  as  I  can.  I  am  looking  as  high 
as  the  sky." 

"Look  higher  than  the  sky,"  he  cried,  with  native 
simplicity  j  "the  sky  is  not  high." 

I  lifted  my  eyes  still  higher  towards  the  zenith,  and 
there,  through  an  expanding  rift  in  the  heavy  cloud,  I 
saw  the  peak,  calm,  bright  and  beautiful,  just  as  it  had 
been  all  the  time,  even  when  hidden  by  low-hanging 
clouds.  I  have  often  thought  of  it  since.  God  is  higher 


THE  COAST  51 

than  our  highest  thought,  higher  than  our  sky.  Our 
habits  of  mind  and  heart,  even  our  theology  may  hide 
Him  from  our  sight,  until  by  some  unwonted  experience 
these  are  shattered,  and  through  the  rent  clouds  of  our 
former  sky  we  see  the  living  God. 

A  short  time  before  I  left  Africa  I  spent  ten  days  at  a 
sanitarium  of  the  Basle  Mission,  on  the  side  of  Cameroon, 
between  three  and  four  thousand  feet  high.  I  had  then 
been  in  Africa  for  years  and  had  tropical  blood  in  my 
veins,  and  I  suffered  much  with  the  cold.  There  was  so 
much  covering  on  my  bed  that  I  was  fairly  sore  with  the 
weight  of  it,  and  yet  I  was  cold.  The  storms  raged  fre- 
quently, hiding  the  heavens  from  those  below  and  the 
earth  from  us ;  for  we  were  above  the  storm-cloud,  and 
dwelt  in  light  and  sunshine.  The  detonation  of  thunder 
beneath  us  was  like  the  muttering  rumble  of  an  earth- 
quake. 

The  German  government  has  built  a  splendid  road 
from  the  base  of  the  mountain  up  to  the  sanitarium.  The 
road  is  well  graded,  and  winds  upwards  like  a  continuous 
S,  covering  a  distance  of  sixteen  miles  in  the  ascent.  I 
was  delighted  when  I  found  that  the  missionaries  would 
provide  me  a  mule  upon  which  I  could  ride  up  to  the 
sanitarium.  I  am  a  lover  of  horses,  and  often  during 
those  years  in  Africa  I  had  been  homesick  for  the  sight 
of  one.  The  mule,  when  he  appeared,  was  sleek  and 
strong  ;  I  put  my  arms  around  his  neck  and  patted  him 
and  caressed  him  as  if  he  were  a  long-lost  friend.  Then 
I  mounted  him  and  started  up  the  road,  an  attendant  fol- 
lowing behind  with  another  mule  and  carrying  my  bag- 
gage. The  mule  which  I  rode  was  deeply  imbued  with 
Longfellow' s  sentiment :  < '  Home-keeping  hearts  are 
happiest  j  to  stay  at  home  is  best."  He  climbed  slowly 
and  reluctantly,  and  by  some  mysterious  operation  of  the 
law  of  gravitation  his  head  had  a  persistent  tendency  to 


52          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

turn  about  and  swing  down  the  grade.  I  soon  realized 
that  I  could  go  faster  without  him,  and  that  the  strength 
which  I  was  expending  in  keeping  him  in  the  path  of 
duty  was  greater  than  that  which  I  would  require  in  go- 
ing my  way  alone ;  and  I  had  no  strength  to  spare. 
Therefore  after  three  or  four  miles  in  his  company,  find- 
ing his  disposition  fixed  and  unaspiring,  I  dismounted, 
and  leaving  him  in  the  road  for  the  guide,  I  walked  the 
rest  of  the  sixteen  miles. 

But  ten  days  later,  when  I  was  returning  to  Victoria, 
the  same  mule  was  again  put  at  my  disposal,  and  I 
gladly  accepted  him.  For  I  was  much  stronger,  and  I 
was  going  in  the  direction  of  his  own  desire  ;  and  besides 
it  was  down-hill  all  the  way,  and  I  knew  that  he  was  too 
lazy  to  hold  back.  The  grade  was  not  such  that  there 
was  any  danger  to  him  from  running  ;  so  I  galloped  the 
sixteen  miles,  and  had  the  ride  of  my  life.  I  could  have 
shouted  with  delight.  After  a  few  miles  I  took  a  severe 
pain  in  my  side.  I  dismounted  and  lay  down  on  the 
ground.  In  a  little  while  I  was  all  right  again,  and  tak- 
ing off  a  pair  of  stout  suspenders  I  tied  them  as  tight  as 
possible  around  my  waist  with  a  large  clumsy  knot  at  my 
side.  I  had  already  discarded  my  coat,  and  my  only 
upper  garment  was  a  woolen  undershirt  with  short 
sleeves.  The  suspenders  around  my  waist  gave  me  a  new 
accession  of  strength  and  I  galloped  all  the  rest  of  the 
'way,  with  the  same  pleasure,  and  entered  Victoria  where 
I  made  something  of  a  sensation.  My  last  association, 
therefore,  with  the  great  mountain,  was  not  an  impression 
of  its  solemn  majesty,  but  the  memory  of  a  jolly  good 
ride. 

I  was  glad  when  at  last  we  reached  Batanga,  and  the 
long  voyage  was  over.  Our  attention  was  drawn  to  the 
canoes  in  which  men  were  fishing,  and  for  which  Batanga 
is  famous.  The  quiet  morning  sea  was  dotted  with  them 


THE  COAST  53 

within  a  radius  of  a  mile  around  us,  some  of  them  being 
two  miles  from  the  shore.  The  Batanga  canoe  is  the 
smallest  on  the  entire  coast.  It  is  almost  as  light  as 
bark  j  the  men  come  to  the  beach  in  the  morning  carry- 
ing their  canoes  on  their  heads.  It  is  quite  an  entertain- 
ment to  see  them  going  out  through  the  surf,  and  I  have 
seen  a  canoe  capsized  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  attempt. 
Later  in  the  day,  when  the  surf  is  heavier,  they  cannot 
get  out  at  all.  At  sea  the  man  straddles  his  canoe  and 
lets  his  legs  hang  in  the  water  ;  and  in  this  fashion  he 
sometimes  ventures  two  miles  from  the  shore. 

We  anchored  nearly  a  mile  from  the  beach  and  were 
sent  ashore  in  a  surf-boat  manned  by  native  Krumen. 
There  is  no  harbour  at  Batanga,  and  the  landing  in  the 
surf  was  the  most  exciting  of  my  African  experiences  un- 
til that  time.  As  we  entered  the  surf  the  boat  stood  still 
for  a  moment,  until  caught  up  on  the  breast  of  a  breaker, 
and — "Then,  like  a  pawing  horse  let  go,  she  made  a 
sudden  bound,'7  and  we  were  carried  towards  the  beach 
with  violent  speed  that  looked  like  destruction  for  us  all. 
The  crest  of  the  breaker  passed  under  us,  however,  when 
we  were  close  to  the  beach,  and  immediately  the  Krumen 
leaped  into  the  water,  and  with  all  their  might  ran  the 
boat  up  on  the  beach  far  enough  to  escape  the  next  wave. 
Then,  while  most  of  them  placed  themselves  around  the 
boat  to  steady  it,  the  rest  of  them  presented  their  backs 
to  the  passengers  and  yelled  at  them  to  jump  on  and  ride 
ashore. 

As  the  pitching  boat  was  poised  for  a  moment,  stand- 
ing on  the  gunwale,  I  seized  a  Kruman  firmly  by  the  hair 
with  both  my  hands,  and  leaped  upon  him,  astride  his 
neck  with  my  legs  over  his  shoulders.  I  had  put  on  a 
fresh  white  suit  for  the  occasion,  notwithstanding  that  I 
had  been  instructed  by  the  Old  Coasters  that  the  Kruman, 
with  his  unique  sense  of  humour,  makes  it  a  point  to 


54          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

drop  the  new  comer  into  the  surf  and  present  him  to  his 
friends  ashore  as  much  bedraggled  and  beflustered  as 
possible.  I  also  had  on  the  inevitable  cork  helmet,  so 
bulky,  and  drooping  over  the  eyes.  Most  men  unaccus- 
tomed to  them  feel  as  awkward  as  they  would  in  a  Gains- 
borough hat.  The  Kruman,  I  am  glad  to  report,  did  not 
drop  me  j  perhaps  because  I  kept  so  firm  a  hold  on  his 
hair  that  he  did  not  know  how  much  of  it  he  might  lose 
by  a  sudden  or  unexpected  separation  from  me.  It  was 
probably  my  own  fault,  and  not  his,  that  when  he  stooped 
to  deposit  me,  I  missed  the  trick  of  lighting  on  my  feet, 
which  I  afterwards  learned.  I  reached  the  ground  on  all 
fours,  in  the  wet  sand.  The  white  helmet  fell  from  my 
head  and  rolled  off  towards  the  sea  and  I  followed  it, 
running  quadrupedal  fashion,  and  snatched  it  from  an 
approaching  wave. 

A  moment  later  I  was  exchanging  greetings  with  a 
group  of  missionaries  who  had  gathered  on  the  beach. 

At  this  landing  on  the  beach  I  observed  that  we  were 
standing  under  a  cocoa-palm.  I  looked  up,  and  lo,  there 
was  no  snake  hanging  from  it.  Now,  the  most  vivid  im- 
pression— in  fact  the  only  impression  of  Africa  that  I 
had  carried  thus  far  through  life,  except  that  of  sunny 
fountains  rolling  down  golden  strands,  was  made  by  a 
picture  in  the  old-fashioned  geography  ;  in  which  there 
were  crowded  together,  with  contempt  of  perspective,  an 
elephant,  a  hippopotamus,  a  rhinoceros,  a  lion,  a  leopard, 
a  gorilla,  a  chimpanzee,  several  other  monkeys,  and  a 
python  hanging  from  a  tree. 

"They  are  all  here,"  said  some  one,  in  explanation; 
"but  they  are  not  so  thick  on  the  ground  as  you  may 
have  supposed." 


u*t^  **»•.••/'•.  »'?-v\  *»»-»-  vi^as-a^^ i 

•      "5  ^%y$i^ll||^ 

;i*-  i^^^siis 

"  '^*™^i^^! 


He  was 


REV.  A.  C.  GOOD,  Ph.D. 

Dr.  Good  died  at  Efulen  at  the  aye  of  thirty-seven. 
a   man    of   the  1/ivinyxtone  type. 


Ill 

BUSH  TRAVEL 

UPON  our  arrival  at  Batanga  we  at  once  com- 
menced the  preparations  for  a  journey  into  the 
bush,  than  which  nothing  could  have  been  a 
greater  contrast  to  the  long,  idle  voyage  on  the  sea  j  for 
our  physical  strength  and  powers  of  endurance  were  to  be 
taxed  more  than  ever  before. 

There  were  two  others  besides  myself,  Mr.  Kerr,  a  new 
arrival,  and  the  Eev.  A.  C.  Good,  an  intrepid  and  conse- 
crated missionary  whose  name  was  already  known 
throughout  the  United  States.  Dr.  Good  had  been  twelve 
years  in  Africa,  working  most  of  the  time  among  the  Fang 
of  the  Ogowe  Eiver,  but  had  lately  come  to  Batanga  for 
the  purpose  of  opening  the  Bulu  interior.  The  language 
of  the  Fang  was  so  much  like  the  Bulu  that  Dr.  Good  could 
converse  with  the  latter  from  the  first.  Before  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Kerr  and  myself  Dr.  Good  had  already  made  one 
journey  into  the  Bulu  country  to  a  distance  of  seventy - 
five  miles,  where  he  chose  the  site  of  the  first  station, 
afterwards  named  Efulen. 

In  those  days  nearly  all  the  distance  between  Efulen 
and  the  beach  was  covered  with  dense  unbroken  forest. 
None  of  the  Bulu  as  far  as  we  knew  had  ever  been  to  the 
coast ;  and  no  white  man  had  ever  entered  that  part  of  the 
interior.  The  Mabeya  tribe,  living  immediately  behind 
the  coast  tribe,  were  already  in  trade  relations  with  the 
Bulu  ;  so  that  there  were  roads,  that  is,  foot-paths,  through 
the  forest.  But  they  were  seldom  used,  and  were  only  a 
little  better  than  none  at  all.  The  present  good  bush- 

55 


56          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

road  from  Batanga  to  Efulen  did  not  exist  iii  those  days. 
We  made  it  ourselves  after  we  had  been  there  nearly  a 
year,  and  it  has  been  greatly  improved  from  time  to  time. 
The  first  road  which  we  followed  made  a  great  detour  to 
the  south,  and  we  walked,  according  to  Dr.  Good's  calcu- 
lation, seventy-five  miles  from  Batanga  to  Efulen,  al- 
though the  distance  by  the  present  straight  road  is  less 
than  sixty  miles. 

And,  by  the  way,  before  we  enter  the  forest,  bidding  a 
temporary  farewell  to  civilization,  we  do  well  to  take 
leave  of  this  highly  civilized  term,  "mile."  It  is  more 
than  superfluous  in  such  a  forest :  it  is  positively  mislead- 
ing. Such  roads  are  not  measured  in  terms  of  linear  dis- 
tance, but  only  in  measures  of  time.  To  say  that  a  place 
is  distant  half  a  day's  journey,  or  five  hours,  is  to  speak 
intelligibly  j  but  to  say  that  a  place  is  five  miles  distant 
is  to  give  not  the  slightest  information  as  to  the  time  it 
will  take  to  reach  it.  On  the  few  good  roads  which  in 
recent  years  have  been  improved  by  the  government  one 
might  perhaps  walk  thirty  miles  a  day :  on  the  worst 
roads  that  I  have  attempted  I  could  not  walk  five  miles  a 
day  with  equal  labour. 

Men  can  now  walk  to  Efulen  in  three  days  over  the 
present  road,  and  I  with  others  have  done  it  in  that  time, 
although  in  greatly  reduced  health  ;  yet  I  was  not  nearly 
so  tired  as  when  I  used  to  walk  it  in  five  days  over  the 
road  that  we  first  followed.  The  greater  distance  was  by 
no  means  the  only  difference  ;  the  chief  difference  was  in 
the  quality  of  the  road.  The  first  road  was  so  obscure 
that  in  many  places  we  could  scarcely  follow  it ;  and  in 
some  places  it  was  so  completely  overgrown  that  we  had 
to  cut  our  way  through,  making  the  road  as  we  went,  for 
which  reason  we  always  kept  men  with  cutlasses  ahead 
of  the  caravan.  Much  also  depends  upon  the  season.  A 
road  might  be  very  good  and  easy  to  travel  in  the  dry 


BUSH  TRAVEL  57 

season,  but  almost,  or  quite,  impassable  in  the  wet  season, 
when  the  forest  is  flooded,  when  the  streams  have  become 
rivers  and  the  rivers  have  far  overspread  their  banks,  so 
that  the  traveller  is  wading  in  water  much  of  the  time. 
In  opening  a  new  station  we  could  not  choose  our  time 
for  travel,  and  it  so  happened  that  in  my  year  and  a  half 
at  Efulen  I  only  made  two  round  trips  in  the  dry  season. 

The  African  forest  is  the  greatest  in  the  world,  both  in 
the  area  covered  and  in  the  density  of  growth.  The  tribes 
with  whom  I  am  familiar  conceive  of  the  whole  world  as 
a  vast  bush  intersected  with  rivers.  The  tribes  are  mov- 
ing ever  from  the  interior  towards  the  sea ;  and  some  of 
those  who  have  long  been  coast  tribes  still  retain  in  the 
idiom  of  their  language  the  record  of  their  former  igno- 
rance. The  word  for  "river"  is  used  to  designate  the 
sea,  and  "the  whole  world"  is  "the  whole  bush."  "A 
man  will  speak  of  his  country  as  his  "bush,"  and  the 
white  man's  country  he  calls  "the  white  man's  bush." 
God,  they  say,  loves  "the  whole  bush."  Heaven,  or  the 
other  world,  is  "the  other  bush,"  and  in  singing  "  I  have 
a  Father  in  the  promised  land,"  they  say:  "I  have  a 
Father  in  the  bush  beyond." 

One  who  is  accustomed  to  the  maple,  beech,  oak  and 
pine,  finds  the  African  forest  strangely  unfamiliar. 
There  are  extremes  of  soft  and  hard  woods  ;  and  one  will 
soon  observe  that  as  a  rule  the  soft  woods  have  large 
leaves,  while  most  of  the  hard  woods  have  small  leaves. 
Teak,  mahogany,  lignum  vitse,  ebony  and  camwood  are 
characteristic.  The  most  striking  and  beautiful  tree  of 
the  forest  is  a  species  of  cottonwood.  It  grows  an  enor- 
mous height,  with  a  silver-gray  trunk  like  a  column  of 
granite,  and  is  supported  by  immense  buttresses.  In  the 
primeval  forest,  that  which  has  not  at  any  time  been  cut 
down  for  man's  habitation,  the  foliage  is  very  high  and 
the  gray  trunks  suggest  the  columns  of  a  cathedral.  The 


9F  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


58          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

branches  above  interlace,  forming  a  canopy  of  foliage  and 
excluding  the  sun.  Cable  vines  of  various  sizes,  many  of 
them  six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter,  lash  the  trees  to- 
gether, ascending  the  tree  trunks  in  a  spiral  coil  like  an 
endless  python  and  sometimes  strangling  them  to  death, 
then  swinging  from  tree  to  tree  in  loops  and  coils,  gnarled 
and  twisted.  The  foliage  and  flowers  of  these  spread 
through  the  tree  tops,  making  the  dim  light  below  more 
dim,  and  from  the  swinging  cables  an  undisciplined  pro- 
fusion of  other  vines  and  various  hanging  plants  depend 
in  festoons  and  draperies,  all  interwoven  in  bewildering 
confusion.  The  ground  is  covered  with  a  thick  compost 
of  rotting  leaves  and  branches  and  insects.  Every  few 
yards  a  giant  tree  trunk  lies  prostrate  and  is  filled  with 
myriad  insects  that  will  soon  devour  it. 

Lightning  sometimes  strikes  the  tallest  trees,  which 
come  crashing  down  bringing  half  a  dozen  others  with 
them.  Then  in  this  open  place  where  the  sunlight  reaches 
the  ground  there  shoots  up  with  amazing  rapidity  a  tan- 
gled undergrowth,  from  which  young  trees  race  upwards 
to  secure  the  light  and  air  in  such  rivalry  and  struggle  that 
the  weak  are  soon  strangled  or  crowded  to  death,  and  the 
battle  is  to  the  swift. 

The  poet  William  Watson  in  melodious  verses  prays 
for  — 

"The  advent  of  that  morn  divine 

When  nations  may  as  forests  grow, 
Wherein  the  oak  hates  not  the  pine, 
Nor  beeches  wish  the  cedars  woe, 
But  all  in  their  nnlikeness  blend 
Confederate  to  one  golden  end." 

No  one  will  deny  that  this  is  beautiful  poetry  ;  but  it  is 
deplorably  false  science.  Nothing  could  be  more  untrue 
to  the  facts.  The  oak,  the  pine  and  the  cedar,  considered 


BUSH  TRAVEL  59 

as  living  things  with  conscious  aims  and  individual  in- 
terests (for  that  is  how  the  poet  would  have  us  consider 
them),  do  hate  each  other  with  a  hatred  to  which  there  is 
no  parallel  in  human  society.  Men  sacrifice  for  each 
other,  and  we  even  have  martyrs.  But  in  the  forest  there 
is  no  sacrifice,  no  martyrdom,  nor  do  trees  ever  confed- 
erate ;  but  each  fights  for  itself  in  a  ceaseless  and  savage 
struggle.  And  nowhere  else  in  the  forest  world  is  the 
struggle  for  existence  so  remorseless  as  in  the  tropic  zone 
of  Africa  j  for  nowhere  else  is  variety  so  profuse  and 
growth  so  rapid. 

In  the  primeval  forest  the  undergrowth  is  not  dense 
and  travel  is  not  so  difficult.  But  as  the  natives  are  al- 
ways moving  their  towns  and  abandoning  old  sites,  a 
considerable  portion  of  the  forest  is  the  growth  of  a  few 
years  j  and  here  the  undergrowth  is  so  dense  and  matted 
that  there  is  no  possibility  of  passing  through  it  except  as 
one  tunnels  his  way  with  the  cutlass,  and  the  jungle 
closes  on  both  sides  of  the  path  like  a  wall.  This  is  the 
usual  character  of  the  bush  along  the  rivers.  There  are 
not  many  flowers  in  the  forest.  The  most  common  is  the 
orchid.  But  flowers  are  numerous  in  the  clearings  and 
more  open  places.  In  particular  there  is  a  lovely  con- 
volvulus of  delicate  lavender  that  climbs  over  all  the 
lower  growth  of  the  clearing  and  blooms  in  such  profu- 
sion as  to  give  its  colour  to  the  landscape.  The  impression 
of  the  beauty  or  the  ugliness  of  the  forest  depends  largely 
upon  whether  one  sees  it  in  the  wet  or  the  dry  season. 
In  the  dry  season,  travelling  on  a  fairly  good  road,  the 
idea  of  the  cathedral  with  its  solemn  majesty  was  often 
present  with  me ;  I  was  impressed  with  its  beauty  and 
enjoyed  the  solitude.  But  in  the  wet  season  I  loathed  it. 
Who  could  enjoy,  or  even  recognize,  beauty  while  stand- 
ing knee-deep  in  mud  1  Its  stillness  is  not  the  stillness 
that  speaks  to  the  mind  and  heart.  It  is  dull  and  dead. 


60          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

We  had  twenty-eight  native  carriers  (whom  we  must 
call  porters  when  speaking  to  Englishmen)  each  with  a 
load  of  about  forty  pounds.  They  often  carry  more  than 
twice  that  weight  over  the  present  road  to  Efulen  ; 
seventy  pounds  is  the  standard  load.  But  besides  the 
better  roads  there  is  also  this  great  difference  that  the  na- 
tives were  at  that  time  new  to  the  work  of  carrying  heavy 
loads,  to  which  they  have  since  become  accustomed.  The 
present  young  men  have  grown  up  in  the  work.  Be- 
sides our  personal  effects  and  food  supplies  we  carried 
trade-goods,  with  which  to  buy  food  and  building  ma- 
terial from  the  natives,  and  to  pay  native  workmen. 
There  was  no  currency  in  that  interior  tribe.  We  paid 
out  principally  salt,  beads,  and  brass  rods,  the  latter  used 
for  ornaments  for  the  legs  and  arms.  After  a  year  there 
was  some  demand  for  cloth — highly  coloured  prints — 
and  other  articles  for  which  there  was  no  use  at  first. 

We  were  dressed  in  suits  of  denim  or  other  cheap  ma- 
terial. I  bought  my  suit  at  a  trading-house  in  Batanga 
for  two  dollars,  and  packed  away  all  my  better  clothing. 
Beneath  the  coat  I  wore  a  heavy  woollen  undershirt,  the 
only  proper  kind  for  the  tropics,  and  proper  all  the  time, 
no  matter  what  else  one  may  choose  or  discard.  We 
were  glad  to  discard  the  helmet  while  travelling  in  the 
forest,  and  to  substitute  a  felt  hat.  Tastes  differ  widely 
as  to  the  best  footwear ;  but  I  like  best  for  such  a  road  a 
pair  of  canvas  shoes  with  rubber  soles,  alternating  with 
stout  leather  shoes  every  second  or  third  day.  Each  man 
carries  a  wooden  stick  or  staff  about  five  feet  in  length. 
When  a  man  has  chosen  and  trimmed  for  himself  a  stick 
that  exactly  suits  him,  he  becomes  attached  to  it  with  a 
sentimental  regard,  according  to  the  distance  he  has 
travelled  with  it  and  the  journeys  he  has  made.  He  is 
sensitive  to  any  criticism  passed  upon  it ;  and  no  expe- 
rienced bush-traveller  will  make  disparaging  remarks 


BUSH  TRAVEL  61 

about  another  man's  staff,  but  around  the  camp-fire  they 
will  vie  with  each  other  in  praising  each  his  own.  I  re- 
member mine  very  well  and  I  would  give  much  to  have 
it  now. 

Perhaps  this  attachment  is  the  stronger  because,  as  a 
rule,  we  do  not  carry  watches  in  that  country.  Most 
watches  will  run  only  for  a  short  time.  A  fine  gold 
watch  is  the  most  useless  of  all ;  the  very  cheapest  will 
run  longest.  When  I  began  to  tell  this  in  America,  I 
found  that  I  was  sacrificing  my  reputation  for  accuracy 
of  statement :  whereupon  I  stated  the  facts  to  a  jeweller 
who,  after  consideration,  said  there  was  a  very  plain  ex- 
planation, namely,  that  the  hair- spring  of  the  more  ex- 
pensive movements  is  usually  finer  and  more  closely 
coiled  than  that  of  the  cheaper  watches,  so  fine  that  the 
least  rust  upon  it  would  interfere  with  its  motion. 

Our  outfit  for  the  road  was  very  light.  This  was 
Dr.  Good's  habit  and  with  me  it  was  a  kind  of  instinct. 
We  were  measuring  our  strength  against  the  forces  of  the 
forest,  testing  our  ability  to  endure  and  to  wrest  from  the 
forest  itself  the  means  of  enduring.  Having  this  feeling, 
to  carry  along  the  ready-made  comforts  of  civilization 
seems  like  taking  a  mean  advantage  of  nature.  Some 
few  things  must  be  taken.  But  the  opinions  of  the  wisest 
differ  as  to  what  those  few  things  should  be,  and  each 
man  ardently  believes  in,  and  advocates  his  own  outfit. 
The  explanation  is  that  nothing  of  the  outfit  except  food 
is  an  absolute  necessity.  Other  things,  however  impor- 
tant, are  of  the  nature  of  comforts  ;  and  what  is  necessary 
to  one  man's  comfort,  another  can  often  do  without. 

One  may  suggest  for  such  a  journey  a  good  water-proof 
bag  containing  a  sweater,  extra  socks  and  pajamas,  and 
two  blankets.  A  good  rubber  blanket  is  a  necessity  if 
one  expects  to  sleep  in  the  open  forest.  Canned  foods, 
of  course,  are  used,  and  for  cooking  utensils,  a  frying-pan 


62          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

and  a  sauce-pan  will  suffice  for  three,  and  a  cup,  tin 
plate,  knife,  fork  and  spoon  for  each.  Several  cutlasses 
are  necessary  for  clearing  the  road,  preparing  beds,  cut- 
ting fire- wood  and  other  uses.  Matches  also  must  be 
taken  and  kept  in  a  dry  place.  A  few  towels  and  toilet 
articles  complete  the  necessary  outfit.  On  our  first  j  ourney 
we  took  camp-beds,  but  only  because  we  had  need  of 
them  at  Efulen.  I  never  carried  one  again. 

Besides  this  general  and  common  outfit  each  man 
nearly  always  has  some  one  article  that  nobody  else  car- 
ries but  himself,  and  that,  in  his  mind,  is  more  important 
than  anything  else.  I  do  not  remember  what  Mr.  Kerr's 
indispensable  was,  for  we  never  walked  together  except 
this  once,  it  being  necessary  that  either  one  of  us  should 
stay  at  the  station.  Mine,  however,  was  a  pair  of  leather 
gloves,  at  which  Dr.  Good  used  to  laugh  ;  for  we  travelled 
often  together.  But  they  saved  me  much  loss  of  blood 
and  the  pain  of  torn  hands  from  the  brambles  and  long 
briers  that  stretched  across  the  path,  and  they  also  en- 
abled me  to  protect  my  face  from  them  by  pushing  them 
aside  better  than  I  could  have  done  with  bare  hands. 
Dr.  Good's  indispensable  was  a  mosquito-net  with  canopy 
and  sides  which  he  also  urged  upon  me  as  a  necessity  and 
which  I  insisted  was  a  superfluity.  There  were  no  mos- 
quitoes in  our  camping-places  in  the  forest ;  but  he  used 
the  net  to  protect  against  damp  and  against  any  slight 
motion  of  the  air,  for  one  takes  cold  very  easily  and  the 
least  cold  is  liable  to  induce  fever.  We  had  many  a 
good-natured  " scrap"  over  these  hobbies ;  but  neither 
of  us  ever  converted  the  other.  There  was,  however,  one 
article  with  which  I  was  always  well  supplied  and  for 
which  Dr.  Good  himself  usually  thanked  me  before  the 
end  of  a  journey,  and  that  was  the  indispensable  safety- 
pin.  I  never  foresaw  any  particular  use  for  it,  but  many 
uses  unforeseen  invariably  emerged  as  we  travelled.  Some 


BUSH  TRAVEL  63 

travellers  carry  a  piece  of  oiled  baize  in  a  convenient  and 
accessible  place.  It  can  be  used  to  sit  down  on ;  for  one 
can  never  sit  on  the  ground,  even  if  it  is  dry,  because  of 
insects.  But  its  special  use  is  for  an  apron,  which  is  at- 
tached with  safety-pins  and  worn  in  the  morning  through 
the  dripping  shrubbery.  If  one  is  wearing  high  shoes  he 
can  even  keep  his  feet  dry  by  this  means. 

The  road  that  threads  the  forest  from  Batanga  to  Efulen 
was  a  narrow  foot-path  twelve  inches  wide  and  poorly 
beaten.  The  wet  season  had  begun  and  the  rains  had 
been  falling  two  or  three  weeks.  The  road  was  not  even 
as  good  as  we  had  expected  ;  for  Dr.  Good,  who  had  fully 
described  it,  had  passed  over  it  at  the  end  of  the  dry 
season,  when  the  road  was  at  the  best.  The  typical 
African  road  is  a  contorted  line  that  vacillates  and 
swerves  to  right  and  left,  turning  and  twisting  at  acute 
angles  continually,  and  often  for  no  apparent  reason,  as 
if  it  had  been  made  by  some  crazy  person.  But  in  such 
cases  there  was  always  an  original  reason  even  when  it 
no  longer  exists.  For  instance,  the  native  carrying  a 
load  finds  a  tree  fallen  across  the  path.  It  is  easier  for 
him  with  his  load  to  go  around  it  than  to  climb  over  it. 
But  a  log  does  not  remain  long  in  an  African  forest.  Be- 
tween insects  and  rot  it  is  soon  demolished.  Meantime, 
along  its  length  there  has  grown  up  a  dense  undergrowth  ; 
and  rather  than  cut  through  this  the  native  keeps  to  the 
path,  now  beaten,  which  passed  around  the  log;  and 
the  new  traveller  wonders  why  the  path  should  not  be 
straight.  It  is  estimated  that  an  African  road  is  a  third 
longer  in  each  mile  by  reason  of  its  crookedness.  But 
this  is  not  the  only  peculiarity  of  a  forest  path.  African 
trees  have  enormous  roots,  and  much  of  them  is  above 
ground.  This  is  the  chief  obstruction,  and  there  are 
many  others. 

No  two  successive  steps  are  the  same  length,  nor  upon 


64          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

the  same  level.  If  the  attention  is  diverted  for  a  moment, 
one  may  stumble  and  fall.  The  road  carefully  avoids  the 
hills  and  keeps  down  in  the  lowest  parts.  The  natives, 
carrying  loads,  dislike  climbing,  but  they  have  not  the 
least  aversion  to  mud  j  indeed,  it  has  some  advantages 
for  their  bare  feet.  One  passes  through  every  variety  of 
it  and  every  depth.  The  road  often  follows  the  bed  of  a 
stream  for  a  distance,  a  foot  or  more  under  water  or  in 
mud,  according  to  the  season.  Meanwhile,  the  part  of 
the  traveller  that  is  above  ground  is  kept  moist  by  the 
dripping  shrubbery  that  meets  across  the  path.  Many 
of  the  shrubs  are  covered  with  thorns,  spines  and  hooks. 
One  of  the  worst  of  these,  armed  with  sharp  spikes  and 
not  easy  to  see  because  it  bears  but  little  foliage,  sprawls 
across  the  path  just  high  enough  to  catch  the  average  man 
under  the  chin,  where  it  leaves  a  mark  that  looks  as  if  it 
might  have  been  made  with  a  cross-cut  saw.  Then, 
again,  there  are  long  stretches  of  road  that  are  not  any 
worse  than  crossing  a  ploughed  field  after  a  rain.  Every 
day,  and  sometimes  several  times  a  day,  we  forded 
streams,  often  wading  to  the  waist,  and  we  rather  en- 
joyed it  after  the  mud. 

The  deeper  ravines  we  crossed  on  bridges.  Bridge- 
building  in  Africa  is  no  great  triumph  of  mechanical  en- 
gineering. The  bridges  which  crossed  the  narrower 
ravines  and  gorges  consisted  simply  of  several  long,  slen- 
der poles  laid  down  side  by  side.  They  ought  to  be  on  a 
level  but  are  not.  One  is  six  inches  or  a  foot  higher  than 
the  other,  and  there  is  so  much  spring  in  them  that  the 
feat  of  crossing  is  equal  to  a  tight-rope  performance. 
Over  extensively  flooded  areas  where  the  water  is  too 
deep  to  wade,  a  bridge  of  single  poles  is  supported  in 
forked  uprights  at  intervals  of  the  length  of  the  poles, 
and  above  the  bridge  a  rope  of  vine  is  stretched  to  hold 
with  the  hand.  It  happened  more  than  once  that  by 


BUSH  TRAVEL  65 

some  mishap  we  tumbled  into  the  stream  below  ;  but  the 
natives  were  quick  to  fish  us  out. 

The  worst  part  of  the  journey  was  on  the  last  day, 
through  the  new  clearings  which  the  natives  had  made 
for  their  gardens.  In  these  the  whole  forest  lay  pros- 
trate,— trees  great  and  small,  the  tangled  mass  of  vines, 
and  all  the  debris  made  by  its  crashing  fall.  The  whole 
enormous  mass  is  left  lying  until  the  lighter  parts  of  it 
dry  :  then  it  is  burned  over.  This  burning  is  repeated  at 
long  intervals  until  at  length  much  of  it  is  burned  away. 
But  by  this  time  the  natives  are  perhaps  thinking  of  de- 
serting it  and  making  a  new  garden  somewhere  else,  or 
they  may  have  moved  their  town  away.  Meanwhile, 
they  somehow  reach  the  ground  and  plant  their  cassava 
which  flourishes  in  the  fresh,  rich  soil.  The  difficulty  in 
an  African  garden  is  not  to  get  things  to  grow,  but  to 
keep  other  things  from  growing.  They  never  hesitate  to 
fell  the  forest  thus  across  the  road,  obstructing  the  cara- 
vans and  bringing  curses  on  their  heads. 

One  might  think  on  approaching  a  town  through  one 
of  these  clearings  that  it  had  been  made  as  a  formidable 
defense  in  time  of  war.  To  go  through  it  is  a  tedious 
and  exhausting  trial.  One  moment  the  traveller  is  crawl- 
ing on  all  fours  under  a  log ;  then  he  walks  up  the  in- 
clined trunk  of  a  tree  a  distance  of  fifty  feet,  then  turns 
and  follows  one  of  its  branches,  from  this  leaps  to  a 
branch  of  another  tree  which  he  follows  down  to  the 
trunk,  which  is  perhaps  ten  feet  above  the  ground,  while 
below  him  are  upright  sticks  or  broken  branches  upon 
which  he  may  be  impaled  if  he  falls,  or  at  least  badly 
bruised.  From  this  he  mounts  a  cross-log  and  proceeds 
downwards  to  another  which  he  follows  until  it  brings 
him  five  feet  from  the  ground,  when  he  jumps  the  rest  of 
the  way,  crawls  under  another  log,  proceeds  a  few  yards 
on  the  ground,  mounts  another  log,  follows  it  until  he 


66          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFEICA 

finds  himself  again  six  feet  off  the  ground  and  wondering 
how  he  will  reach  it ;  but  the  next  moment  he  has  already 
reached  it  and  wonders  how  he  got  there.  Then  he  does 
this  all  over  again,  and  then  again.  I  never  passed 
through  such  a  clearing  without  getting  bruised  or  hurt 
in  some  way.  The  natives  with  their  bare  feet  climb  over 
these  smooth  logs  better  than  the  white  man  with  his 
shoes  unless  they  have  rubber  soles ;  in  the  morning  be- 
fore the  dew  has  dried  it  is  especially  hard.  It  is  much 
harder  from  the  fact  that  we  are  no  longer  in  the  shade  of 
the  forest,  but  exposed  to  the  fierce  tropical  sun  unre- 
lieved by  the  least  breeze  because  of  the  surrounding 
forest. 

A  caravan  with  their  heavy  loads,  walking  through 
such  a  forest  ruin,  presents  a  picturesque  scene  to  the 
spectator.  Some  are  crawling  under  logs,  some  are 
climbing  on  top  of  them,  half  a  dozen  are  walking  in 
procession  up  an  inclined  trunk,  some  are  walking  a  log 
ten  feet  in  the  air,  others  are  twisting  their  way  through 
a  maze  of  branches  and  some  have  fallen  to  the  ground. 
With  such  a  clearing  in  mind,  and  remembering  what 
has  been  said  about  African  bridges,  the  reader  will  not 
be  likely  to  ask  the  oft-repeated  question,  why  donkeys 
and  horses  are  not  more  used.  The  use  of  either  would 
necessitate  the  carrying  of  a  derrick  with  rope  and  tackle. 

This  recalls  to  my  mind  an  occasion  some  years  after- 
wards that  afforded  high  amusement  to  some  friends  of 
mine.  I  had  been  home  in  America  for  several  years 
and  was  about  to  go  to  Africa  a  second  time  when  I  re- 
ceived a  visit  from  Mr.  Kerr,  who  was  home  on  furlough. 
He  gave  me  an  enthusiastic  account  of  the  work  done 
by  the  German  government  in  improving  the  Bulu  roads, 
— although  it  was  perhaps  the  road  to  Lolodorf  rather 
than  that  to  Efulen  of  which  he  was  speaking.  He  de- 
clared that  as  compared  with  the  first  roads  that  he  and 


BUSH  TRAVEL  67 

I  had  travelled,  I  would  never  recognize  it  as  an  African 
road  ;  for  it  was  "  grand," — "  simply  grand." 

With  an  outburst  of  enthusiasm  I  replied  that  since  I 
might  be  appointed  to  that  station,  and  since  the  road 
was  "  simply  grand,"  I  would  buy  a  pair  of  donkeys  at 
the  Canary  Islands  and  take  them  with  me. 

"Man  alive!"  he  exclaimed,  "one  would  think  you 
had  never  been  in  Africa ;  a  donkey  couldn't  get  over  it." 

To  my  friends  it  was  a  hopeless  paradox  that  a  road 
could  be  "simply  grand,"  and  yet  be  impassable  to  a 
donkey.  Nevertheless,  about  that  time  they  began  using 
donkeys  on  the  road  to  Efulen,  so  much  had  the  roads 
been  improved  in  the  intervening  years,  and  they  have 
been  using  them  more  and  more  since  that  time.  There 
is  difficulty,  however,  in  getting  them  over  the  streams 
and  ravines,  and  I  am  not  sure  whether  they  are  used  to 
advantage  in  the  wet  season. 

Only  experience  will  teach  a  man  to  walk  the  bush- 
road  with  the  least  effort ;  and  some  never  learn.  I  can 
remember  yet  how  on  that  first  morning  I  shrunk  from 
the  water  and  the  mud,  trying  to  keep  my  feet  dry  and 
my  clothes  clean.  I  think  Mr.  Kerr  had  more  sense  from 
the  beginning.  I,  however,  was  in  a  state  of  rigidity, 
both  physical  and  mental,  that  would  soon  have  exhausted 
me.  But  after  a  while  a  kindly  Providence  took  me  in 
hand,  sending  upon  me  a  rapid  succession  of  blessings  in 
disguise.  The  mud  lay  deep  in  the  path  and  I  was  trying 
to  straddle  it  as  I  walked,  when,  as  I  sprang  forward  to 
clear  a  wider  space,  some  demon  was  evidently  permitted 
to  catch  my  foot  and  throw  it  up,  with  the  result  that  I 
landed  full  length  on  my  back  in  the  mud.  A  few  min- 
utes later  the  same  impalpable  enemy  tripped  me  and  I 
fell  headlong  on  my  stomach.  Still  later  we  reached  a 
broad,  black,  quiescent  pond  of  water  of  the  consistency 
of  molasses. 


68  THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

"  Can  you  swim?  "  said  Dr.  Good  to  me ;  "  I  forgot  to 
ask  you  that." 

"Yes,"  said  I,  thinking  of  the  glowing  description  he 
had  given  me  of  the  road,  i  i  there  were  several  things  you 
forgot  to  ask  me,  and  some  things  you  forgot  to  tell.  But 
even  if  I  could  not  swim  in  clear  water,  I  could  probably 
swim  in  that  pond." 

We  plunged  in  and  were  able  to  wade  through  it. 

Shortly  after  this  a  drenching  rain  fell,  a  tropical  down- 
pour, that  wet  us  to  the  skin.  In  this  rain  we  stood  and 
ate  our  first  lunch,  some  fresh  biscuits  which  one  of  the 
ladies  at  Batanga  had  baked  that  morning,  saying  as  she 
tied  them  up  for  us  in  heavy  oil  paper,  that  it  would  be 
the  last  food  of  that  sort  that  we  would  taste  for  a  long 
time.  But  when  the  rain  came  on,  the  native  carrier  who 
had  them  in  charge  appropriated  the  oil  paper  to  carry 
his  shirt  in,  leaving  the  biscuits  exposed  to  the  rain.  As 
we  stood  eating  them  while  it  still  rained,  it  was  with 
mitigated  sorrow  we  reflected  that  it  would  be  the  last  of 
that  sort  we  would  taste  for  a  long  time.  I  will  admit 
that  this  was  a  dreary  outset,  but  it  was  not  unfortunate. 
My  tenderfoot  rigidity  had  completely  relaxed  for  the  re- 
mainder of  the  day.  I  cared  not  what  happened  after- 
wards, and  walked  without  timidity,  fearing  neither  mud 
nor  water,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  such  thing. 

No  amount  of  experience  and  practice  in  walking  long 
distances  on  our  public  roads  at  home  will  insure  success 
in  walking  a  bush-path.  In  the  latter  there  are  constant 
obstructions  and  frequent  annoyances,  the  obstructions 
requiring  a  peculiar  physical  aptitude,  the  annoyances  a 
peculiar  mental  aptitude.  The  native  possesses  both 
aptitudes  to  a  marvellous  degree.  The  average  native, 
carrying  on  his  back  a  load  of  forty  pounds,  can  keep  up 
with  the  average  white  man  carrying  nothing.  Yet,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  on  a  turnpike,  neither  of  them  carry- 


BUSH  TRAVEL  69 

ing  anything,  the  average  white  man  would  equal  the 
native  and  perhaps  outwalk  him.  It  must  also  be  re- 
membered that  the  white  man  is  in  a  hostile  climate  in 
Africa,  and  is  never  normally  strong. 

We  started  in  the  morning  as  soon  as  it  was  light  enough 
to  see  the  path,  that  is,  about  six  o'clock,  and  walked 
eight  or  nine  hours  a  day,  stopping  an  hour  at  noon.  We 
walked  at  a  very  rapid  paoe,  almost  on  a  run  where  the 
path  would  permit.  About  four  o'clock  we  stopped  for 
the  day,  usually  at  a  camping-ground  made  by  the  na- 
tives in  carrying  produce  from  the  interior.  These  camps 
were  open  glades  surrounded  by  the  forest  wall  and  ceiled 
by  the  blue  sky. 

Two  or  three  nights  we  camped  beside  a  flowing  stream, 
a  hidden  brook,  that  i  l  all  night  to  the  sleeping  woods 
sang  a  quiet  tune." 

After  sitting  ten  minutes  I  followed  along  a  short  dis- 
tance till  I  found  an  inviting  spot  where  the  pellucid 
stream  widened  and  spread  over  a  sand  bottom,  and  there, 
all  mud-bespattered,  perspiring,  weary  and  sore,  I  lay 
down  in  the  cool,  running  stream,  with  my  clothes  on. 
Does  the  reader  know  what  luxury  is  I  Certainly  not, 
unless  after  eight  or  nine  hours  of  walking  and  wading 
over  such  a  road  he  has  lain  down  in  a  cool  stream  with 
his  clothes  on.  I  turn  my  face  to  one  side  and  then  the 
other,  and  let  the  flowing  water  caress  my  cheek,  and  as 
it  washes  away  the  mire  from  my  clothing,  it  also  soothes 
the  weary  limbs  and  sore  joints  and  smoothes  out  the 
wrinkles  of  care ;  and  my  heart  answers  back  in  a  song 
to  the  murmur  of  its  music.  This  is  the  ancient  Lethean 
stream  in  which  the  weary  and  the  aged  bathed  and  be- 
came oblivious  of  pain  and  sorrow.  After  a  bath  I  get 
into  woollen  pajamas  and  slippers,  and  sit  down  a  little 
later  to  the  best  repast  of  modern  times — an  absolutely 
unlimited  quantity  of  boiled  rice  and  corned  beef.  "Is 


70          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

this  really  corned  beef?"  said  I ;  "  it  tastes  like  angel. " 
Does  the  reader  know  what  luxury  is  ?  Not  unless  after 
such  a  journey  he  has  sat  down  to  such  a  ineal.  For  lux- 
ury is  not  something  objective  in  the  thing  that  we  enjoy, 
but  in  the  keenness  of  our  relish  ;  and  that  depends  upon 
contrast — in  this  instance  the  contrast  of  rest  and  food 
with  hard  and  hungry  endurance.  A  few  days  after 
reaching  New  York,  I  attended  a  banquet  at  which  was 
served  I  know  not  how  many  courses,  the  richest  and  the 
best.  Objectively,  it  was  everything  that  ingenuity  could 
devise ;  only  keen-edged  appetite  was  wanting.  And  I 
was  saying  within  me  to  my  fellow  guests  :  i '  Ah  !  I  have 
a  secret  that  you  know  not.  This  is  only  a  taste  of  lux- 
ury ;  but  if  you  would  enjoy  it  to  the  full  measure  of  your 
capacity,  you  must  follow  me  eight  hours  through  the  fell 
roads  of  the  jungle,  bathe  in  running  water,  get  into 
woollen  pajamas,  and  then  sit  down  in  an  arboreal 
salle  a  manger  to  a  banquet  of  unlimited  rice  and  corned 
beef. 

We  usually  slept  under  booths  made  from  the  boughs 
of  trees  which  we  found  in  most  of  the  camps.  The  most 
primitive  bed  and  that  which  we  sometimes  used,  was 
made  by  cutting  slender,  round  poles  six  feet  long  and 
laying  them  side  by  side  on  two  cross-sticks  at  the  head 
and  foot.  The  native  carrier  sleeps  on  this  bed  of  poles 
with  nothing  under  him  and  nothing  over  him  ;  but  when 
possible  he  keeps  a  fire  beside  him.  We  white  men  were 
wrapped  in  a  blanket  or  two.  But  the  use  of  such  a  bed 
is  not  wise  when  it  can  be  avoided,  and  it  is  seldom  neces- 
sary. More  than  once  some  one  unable  to  sleep  had  to 
rise  in  the  dark,  find  one  or  two  bags  in  which  loads  were 
packed,  spill  the  contents  on  the  ground  (making  such  a 
noise  that  one  suddenly  waking  might  suppose  that  an 
elephant  had  charged  the  camp)  and  spread  the  bags  upon 
the  bed  in  the  hope  of  subduing  the  effect  of  its  knots  and 


BUSH  TRAVEL  71 

depressions  and  its  general  hardness.  I  soon  discarded 
that  sort  of  bed  and  preferred  to  bivouac  in  a  hammock 
of  stout  and  stiff  canvas,  suspended  between  two  trees, 
with  a  rope  stretched  taut  above  it  upon  which  I  threw  a 
large  and  light  rubber  blanket  which  formed  a  gable  over 
me.  This  was,  at  least  for  me,  the  most  comfortable  and 
luxurious  bush-bed  that  I  ever  slept  in. 

But  in  the  early  morning  of  the  second  day  both  com- 
fort and  luxury  seemed  remote  and  unrealizable  ideas. 
There  is  a  miserable  chill  in  the  forest  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning  that  always  makes  one  reluctant  to  leave 
his  warm  blankets  ;  and  on  that  morning  it  was  raining. 
After  coming  out  of  the  stream  the  night  before,  I  had 
wrung  out  of  my  clothes  what  water  I  could,  and  they  re- 
mained without  further  drying  until  I  put  them  on  in  the 
morning  to  the  accompaniment  of  chattering  teeth,  for 
they  seemed  as  cold  as  ice.  The  boys7  fires  had  all  gone 
out  and  we  ate  some  boiled  rice  left  over  from  the  night 
before — ate  it  standing ;  for  sitting  down  one's  clothes 
will  get  next  to  him,  but  standing  up  one  can  shrink 
away  from  them,  or,  at  least,  he  can  try.  After  some 
experience  I  was  almost  able  to  stand  up  in  a  suit  of 
clothes  without  letting  them  touch  me.  Everything  was 
wet  and  cold  and  the  branches  and  shrubs  shook  water 
on  us.  There  is  a  right  way  and  a  wrong  way  to  conquer 
the  ill-will  of  such  a  morning.  The  wrong  way  is  to  con- 
fess your  misery,  to  shiver  and  shrink  and  try  to  save 
yourself.  The  right  way  is  to  plunge  into  it  suddenly, 
get  wet  as  quickly  as  possible,  step  lively,  and  make  be- 
lieve that  you  like  it.  The  power  of  this  mental  attitude 
is  astonishing,  and  with  a  little  determination  you  will 
soon  be  master  of  the  situation. 

Before  the  end  of  the  second  day  we  discovered  that  the 
native  stomach  is  made  of  the  finest  kind  of  rubber.  Be- 
fore leaving  Batauga  we  had  given  to  each  carrier  a  sup- 


T2          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ply  of  food  for  seven  days,  and  before  the  end  of  the 
second  day,  some  of  them  had  eaten  it  all.  That  meant 
hunger  and  trouble  for  all  those  "foolish  virgins7'  for 
the  rest  of  the  journey.  It  also  meant  trouble  for  us. 
The  others  divided  with  them,  as  they  nearly  always  do 
when  this  happens.  But  still  they  did  not  have  enough 
and  all  were  hungry  before  the  end  of  the  journey.  In 
consequence  they  were  too  weak  to  carry  their  loads. 
They  lagged  behind  and  grumbled  continually,  and 
sometimes  they  seemed  on  the  point  of  refusing  to  go  on. 
The  difference  between  a  good  carrier  and  a  poor  one  is 
often  simply  this,  that  the  one  stops  eating  when  he  is 
full  and  the  other  stops  only  when  the  supply  of  food  is 
exhausted. 


IV 

BUSH  PERILS 

"  By  what  I  have  read  in  books,  I  think  few  that  have  held  a  pen 
were  ever  really  wearied,  or  they  would  write  of  it  more  strongly." 

— Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

SEVEEAL  months  later  Dr.  Good  and  I  returned 
from  the  interior  to  Batanga,  passing  over  the 
road  at  its  very  worst.  Ifc  was  near  the  end  of 
the  wet  season.  For  many  weeks  the  rains  had  fallen 
day  and  night.  The  forest  was  flooded ;  the  streams 
were  rushing  rivers,  and  the  rivers  had  far  overspread 
their  banks.  Beyond  these  floods  were  marshes  which 
were  still  worse.  Where  the  water  was  too  deep  to  be 
waded,  temporary  bridges  such  as  I  have  described  had 
been  constructed,  consisting  of  a  single  line  of  poles  ex- 
tending from  one  support  to  another,  sometimes  two  or 
three  feet  under  the  water,  with  a  rope  of  vine  stretched 
a  few  feet  above  that  one  might  hold  with  his  hand. 
These  bridges  were  more  simple  than  ingenious,  and  more 
ingenious  than  safe.  A  number  of  times  the  vine  above 
broke,  upon  which  we  lost  our  balance  and  fell  into  the 
water  but  were  rescued  by  a  life-saving  crew  of  the  car- 
riers. For  in  crossing  the  worst  places  we  always  waited 
for  the  carriers.  Nor  did  we  proceed  until  we  saw  all  the 
loads  over  safely.  One  or  two  crossed  at  a  time  and  the 
others,  having  laid  down  their  loads,  stood  by  to  be  of 
service  in  case  of  accident.  In  one  place  when  we  were 
crossing  a  rushing  stream  in  which  the  bridge  was  buried 
two  feet  under  the  water,  the  line  of  poles  beneath  our 

73 


74          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

feet  suddenly  caine  to  an  end,  having  been  swept  away 
by  the  current,  and  we  crossed  the  deepest  part  on  the 
upper  vine  alone  going  hand  over  hand  until  our  feet 
came  in  contact  with  another  pole.  But  this  let  us  down 
into  the  water  almost  to  our  necks.  In  another  place, 
crossing  a  considerable  stretch  of  water,  the  bridge  was 
such  that  Dr.  Good  preferred  to  cross  by  climbing  the 
trees  and  passing  along  the  interlacing  branches. 

We  were  seven  days  on  the  way  between  Efulen  and 
Batanga,  including  a  Sunday  on  which  we  rested.  I  was 
a  convalescent,  having  recently  been  sick  with  a  very 
severe  fever  that  had  kept  me  in  bed  for  more  than  a 
month,  and  I  was  still  weak.  Indeed,  the  reason  for 
hurrying  to  the  coast  at  this  time  instead  of  waiting  for 
the  dry  season  was  chiefly  my  need  of  a  physician.  The 
first  day  I  walked  four  hours  very  slowly  and  could  do  no 
more ;  but  my  strength  increased  greatly  on  the  way  and 
we  walked  further  each  day. 

On  that  journey  we  had  to  use  the  cutlasses  very  often 
to  clear  the  road  so  as  to  make  it  passable  ;  and  one  day 
we  found  the  road  so  flooded  that  we  were  obliged  to 
leave  it  and  for  several  hours  we  cut  our  way  through  the 
matted  undergrowth  where  there  was  no  road  ;  but  it  was 
very  slow  work.  That  same  day  Dr.  Good,  in  jumping 
over  a  muddy  place,  lighted  on  a  slippery  stick  that  was 
hidden  beneath  the  surface  and  fell  headlong.  I  was  fol- 
lowing so  close  behind  that  I  was  already  in  mid-air 
when  he  fell ;  and,  of  course,  I  tripped  over  him  and  fell 
too.  For  a  few  seconds  at  least  we  were  a  sorry  sight. 
There  was  a  stream  near  by,  however,  and  we  washed 
away  the  portion  of  German  territory  that  clung  to  us, 
and  made  a  presentable  toilet. 

But  Dr.  Good  had  fallen  on  a  projecting  root  and  had 
hurt  his  side  quite  badly.  It  was  like  him  to  say  noth- 
ing about  it  until,  as  we  stood  at  the  stream,  I  observed 


BUSH  PERILS  Y5 

that  he  was  pale.  Then  he  told  me  that  he  had  hurt 
himself  and  that  there  was  a  pain  in  his  side.  He 
thought  that  a  band  tied  around  his  waist  would  relieve 
him ;  so  I  peeled  a  strip  of  bark  four  inches  wide  from  a 
tree  and  tied  it  tight  around  him,  over  his  coat,  making 
a  bow  at  his  back.  Considered  sesthetically  it  left  much 
to  be  desired,  but  it  served  the  purpose.  He  walked  with 
difficulty  the  first  hour  or  two  ;  then  the  pain  gradually 
subsided,  and  although  he  was  bruised,  it  occasioned  him 
no  further  trouble. 

On  the  last  night  of  our  long  immurement  in  the  forest, 
we  camped  for  the  first  time  in  an  open  glade  where  the 
sun  had  warmed  and  dried  the  ground,  and  the  wood  also 
was  dry  enough  to  enable  us  to  have  a  big  camp-fire. 
We  kept  the  fire  all  night,  and  for  the  first  time  on  the 
way  got  our  clothes  well  dried.  Not  only  were  they  dry  ; 
they  were  even  warm  when  we  dressed  in  the  morning. 
We  were  in  high  spirits  and  greatly  enjoyed  our  break- 
fast. But  immediately  upon  starting  out,  and  before  our 
blood  was  in  vigorous  circulation,  we  came  to  a  long 
stretch  of  water  covering  acres  of  ground.  We  were 
greatly  surprised  at  this,  for  Dr.  Good  knew  this  place 
and  had  not  expected  any  such  thing.  The  explanation, 
as  we  found  two  hours  later,  was  that  a  little  town  had 
just  been  built  near  by  and  the  people,  being  at  war  with 
their  neighbours,  had  dammed  a  stream  so  as  to  surround 
their  town  with  water  and  marsh  for  defense  against  the 
approach  of  their  enemies.  This  unsightly  and  disgust- 
ing place  they  were  very  proud  of  as  serving  admirably 
their  purpose  of  safety. 

When  we  came  to  the  water  we  waded  in  and  walked  on 
and  on  not  knowing  its  extent.  But  at  last  we  were  in  al- 
most to  our  shoulders,  and  Dr.  Good  suggested  that  I 
should  wait  while  he  looked  for  the  road,  for  he  knew  the 
way  better  than  I.  It  was  long  before  he  found  it  and  I 


T6          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

stood  for  an  hour  in  the  water.  I  had  never  felt  any  ill 
effects  from  wading  water,  but  now  I  was  standing,  not 
wading  ;  and  I  had  not  done  any  walking  that  morning 
to  invigorate  me.  Before  we  had  proceeded  far  after 
leaving  the  water,  my  joints  were  stiff  and  muscles  sore, 
especially  the  tendons  of  the  heel  and  the  knee  and  every 
step  cost  pain.  But  we  had  the  longest  day  of  all  before 
us,  and  our  food  supply  being  exhausted,  we  must  reach 
Batanga  that  night.  It  was  a  day  I  shall  never  forget. 
To  the  pain  of  aching  joints  and  sore  muscles  was  soon 
added  that  of  exhaustion.  It  happened  that  I  had  been 
quoting  Heine  and  passing  severe  moral  verdicts  upon 
him  for  saying  somewhere — u  Psychical  pain  is  more 
easily  borne  than  physical ;  and  if  I  had  my  choice  be- 
tween a  bad  conscience  and  a  bad  tooth,  I  should  choose 
the  former."  This,  no  doubt,  is  pure  paganism ;  but 
now  when  I  was  suffering  something  of  the  weakness  and 
pain  that  poor  Heine  endured,  I  am  afraid  that  if  I  had 
been  offered  a  bad  conscience  in  exchange  for  physical 
suffering,  with  the  sure  promise  that  I  could  get  my  bet- 
ter conscience  back  again  at  the  beach,  I  might  have  suc- 
cumbed to  the  temptation.  Thank  God  that  in  the  crises 
we  seldom  have  the  choice.  At  any  rate,  Heine  did  not 
seem  so  much  of  a  pagan  that  day  as  when  I  sat  by  the 
warm  camp-fire  the  night  before  descanting  on  another's 
pain,  and  Dr.  Good  did  not  have  to  listen  to  further  moral 
dissertations  on  my  part.  Hours  before  we  reached  the 
beach  my  legs  were  fainting  under  me  but  still  we  walked 
on  with  long  strides  and  at  the  usual  rapid  pace,  thread- 
ing the  forest  while  hour  was  added  to  hour. 

We  did  not  take  our  usual  noonday  rest,  for  we  both 
knew  that  if  I  should  stop  walking  for  a  little  while  I 
would  be  unable  to  go  on.  We  usually  chatted  together 
as  we  walked,  but  that  day  from  noon  until  we  reached 
the  beach,  I  do  not  recall  that  a  word  was  spoken.  Dr. 


BUSH  PERILS  YT 

Good  was  too  wise  to  express  the  sympathy  that  I  knew 
he  felt.  We  had  always  taken  turns  in  setting  the  pace  ; 
but  at  noon  I  said  to  him  :  "  You  go  ahead  j  I  am  not 
equal  to  the  extra  mental  exertion  of  setting  the  pace  :  it 
will  be  easier  for  me  to  keep  up  with  you." 

The  last  hour  of  that  interminable  day  was  through  a 
grass  field  where  we  were  exposed  to  the  sun  and  the  heat. 
The  rank  grass  was  much  higher  than  our  heads  and  in- 
tercepted the  sea-breeze.  It  also  cut  my  arms  and  face 
till  I  was  covered  with  blood  j  for  I  was  too  tired  to  pro- 
tect myself.  Each  successive  step  required  a  new  de- 
cision, and  an  effort  involving  the  utmost  conjoint  exer- 
tion of  mind  and  body.  My  teeth  were  set  and  I  was 
breathing  audibly.  At  last  we  entered  a  native  town  and 
as  we  passed  through  the  long  street,  the  people  and  their 
chief,  Bivinia,  came  trooping  forward  with  cordial  greet- 
ings and  hands  extended  towards  us ;  but  I  neither  ex- 
tended my  hand  nor  replied  to  their  salutations.  Indeed, 
my  mind  was  so  concentrated  on  the  effort  that  it  re- 
quired to  keep  on  walking  that  I  was  only  half -conscious 
of  the  presence  and  attention  of  the  natives  ;  they  were 
like  forms  moving  to  and  fro  in  an  uneasy  dream.  But 
the  longest  day  has  an  end.  We  reached  Dr.  Good's 
house  and  I  threw  myself  into  a  chair  while  he  dispatched 
a  messenger  to  Mr.  Gault  who  lived  two  miles  further, 
asking  Mr.  Gault  to  send  men  with  a  hammock  to  carry 
me  on  to  his  house  where  I  was  going  to  stay. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  one  ever  recovers  from  such  an 
unnatural  straining  of  nerves  and  muscles.  The  muscles 
in  a  few  days  may  regain  their  elasticity  and  the  joints 
their  suppleness  ;  but  somewhat  of  the  power  of  endur- 
ance is  lost  and  especially  the  quality  of  resiliency,  the 
power  of  quickly  recovering  from  mental  or  physical 
prostration,  leaving  one  an  easier  victim  of  virulent  dis- 
ease ;  and  nerves  so  overwrought  may  from  time  to  time 


78          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

wreak  the  vengeance  of  untold  misery  through  all  the 
after  years. 

During  the  following  dry  season  we  employed  a  force 
of  men  in  making  a  new  road,  the  present  road  from 
Batanga  to  Efulen.  It  is  practically  straight,  and  there- 
fore much  shorter  than  the  old  road,  so  that  a  good 
walker  can  make  the  journey  in  three  days.  Moreover, 
it  follows  higher  ground  and  is  more  dry.  We  also  cut 
down  many  trees  along  the  way,  which  relieved  the 
gloom,  although  the  road  still  passes  beneath  a  leafy 
arcade  sufficient  to  protect  from  the  sun.  We  improved 
the  bridges  and  wherever  possible  made  a  bridge  by  fell- 
ing a  tree.  But  the  native  roads,  except  the  few  that 
have  been  improved  by  white  men,  are  still  such  as  I  have 
described.  It  happened  also  that  most  of  our  journeys 
were  at  first  made  in  the  wet  season.  After  the  first  year, 
however,  that  was  no  longer  necessary,  and  we  began  to 
feel  that  the  pioneer  period  was  drawing  to  a  close.  But 
I  presume  that  those  who  now  live  at  Efulen  and  other 
interior  stations,  in  journeys  to  the  further  interior,  es- 
pecially to  towns  off  the  main  road,  if  they  travel  in  the 
wet  season,  find  just  such  roads  as  we  first  travelled. 

The  last  time  I  walked  from  Efulen  during  my  first 
term  in  Africa,  I  enjoyed  the  journey.  The  forest  was 
more  dry  than  I  had  believed  it  could  be.  The  ground 
was  strewn  with  leaves  suggestive  of  our  autumn.  Nor 
was  it  dark  and  depressing  as  before.  Upon  the  forest- 
canopy  of  green,  supported  by  tall  columns  of  sombre 
gray,  the  light  danced  and  played  like  sunshine  on  rip- 
pling water  and  shone  through  in  silvery  streams  and 
shifting  golden  bars.  The  forest  floor  was  a  humus  of 
soft  mould  and  light,  dry  leaves.  The  low  green  under- 
growth, closing  the  path  before  and  behind  me,  now  that 
it  was  not  dripping  with  water,  was  attractive,  and  gave 
a  pleasant  sense  of  privacy  combining  with  the  subtle 


BUSH  PERILS  f  9 

sense  of  companionship  with  the  vast  life  of  the  great 
forest.  For  it  was  no  longer  the  dead,  repellent  jungle 
of  some  months  ago,  but  a  real  forest  in  which  one  loves 
to  walk  alone,  a  forest  full  of  mystery  and  spiritual  sug- 
gestion, whose  stillness  speaks  to  us  in  a  language  that 
we  strive  to  understand,  or  gives,  as  Tennyson  says,  "  A 
hint  of  somewhat  unexprest : " 

"  'Tis  not  alone  the  warbling  woods, 

The  starred  abysses  of  the  sky, 
The  silent  hills,  the  stormy  floods, 

The  green,  that  fills  the  eye.— 
These  only  do  not  move  the  breast ; 

Like  some  wise  Artist,  Nature  gives 
Through  all  her  works,  to  each  that  lives, 

A  hint  of  somewhat  unexprest." 

In  setting  out  from  Efulen  we  always  had  a  "  palaver" 
with  the  carriers  which  in  one  instance,  at  least,  threat- 
ened to  become  a  fight.  Dr.  Good  on  his  first  journey 
before  my  arrival  in  Africa  had  paid  the  carriers  a  cer- 
tain amount  for  the  round  trip  ;  for  they  had  to  carry 
their  loads  both  ways.  One  can  scarcely  overestimate 
the  authority  of  precedent  in  Africa.  The  citation  of  a 
precedent  is  sufficient  to  justify  any  subsequent  action 
that  may  be  to  the  advantage  of  him  who  cites  it,  even 
though  the  action  be  flagitious  and  the  precedent  only 
remotely  relevant.  A  single  precedent  may  establish  a 
custom  and  established  custom  is  a  despot  from  whom 
there  is  no  appeal,  and  whose  authority  transcends  moral 
law.  A  Kruman,  if  asked  why  he  does  this  or  that, 
thinks  that  he  gives  the  most  lucid  explanation  when  he 
answers  :  "  It  be  fashion  for  we  country."  We  had  ex- 
pected to  pay  our  carriers  from  Batanga  to  Efulen  less 
than  Dr.  Good  had  paid,  since  they  were  carrying  loads 
only  one  way.  But  his  one  trip  had  established  the 


80          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

amount  of  pay,  and  at  the  first  mention  of  lower  prices 
there  was  a  storm  of  protest  accompanied  by  scathing 
moral  observations.  It  made  no  difference  to  them,  they 
averred,  whether  or  not  they  carried  loads  both  ways ; 
they  would  just  as  soon  walk  with  a  load  as  without  one, 
and  indeed  a  little  rather.  We  had  no  alternative,  so  we 
paid  the  full  price  of  a  round  trip  j  but  we  stipulated  that 
if  at  any  time  we  should  wish  to  send  loads  from  the  in- 
terior to  Batanga,  we  should  require  the  carriers  to  take 
them  without  any  additional  pay ;  and  to  this  they  cor- 
dially agreed. 

It  was  seldom  that  we  had  anything  but  mail  to  send 
to  Batanga,  except  when  one  of  ourselves  was  going,  and 
then  we  usually  had  four  or  five  loads.  But  there  were 
always  several  times  this  number  of  carriers.  Some  few, 
therefore,  must  be  selected  to  carry  the  loads,  while  the 
rest  walked  light.  It  was  natural,  I  suppose,  that  when 
they  knew  a  white  man  was  going  back  with  them  to 
Batanga  they  should  all  pretend  to  be  sick  in  order  to 
escape  carrying  a  load.  So  sure  as  they  heard  me  com- 
ing towards  their  house  in  the  early  morning  to  choose 
several  carriers,  immediately  they  presented  such  a  spec- 
tacle of  suffering  as  was  never  seen  in  any  hospital.  It 
was  very  perplexing  for  almost  invariably  some  one  or 
two  of  them  were  really  sick  and  quite  unfit  to  carry 
loads.  On  one  occasion  as  I  approached,  the  scene  was 
more  heartrending  than  usual.  There  were  moans  and 
cries  and  shrieks  such  as  might  issue  from  a  railroad 
wreck  in  which  a  score  of  broken  and  mangled  human 
beings  were  pinioned  by  the  wreckage.  I  found  them 
sitting  and  lying  around  in  every  posture  of  pain.  Some 
were  nursing  sore  feet  and  sprained  ankles,  some  had 
violent  attacks  of  indigestion,  several  had  fever,  and  one 
had  a  fit.  Each  one  was  occupied  with  his  own  suffering 
and  betrayed  no  consciousness  of  my  presence. 


BUSH  PERILS  81 

After  looking  around  I  walked  out  without  speaking. 
I  made  a  bold  guess  as  to  the  sick  and  the  well ;  and  re- 
turning a  few  minutes  later,  followed  by  several  workmen 
with  the  loads,  I  advanced  as  if  by  some  occult  means  I 
knew  exactly  the  degree  of  sincerity  or  insincerity  on  the 
part  of  each,  and  placed  the  heaviest  load  in  front  of  a 
certain  man,  saying  quietly  :  i  i  You  will  carry  this 
load.'7  Now  it  happened  that  this  was  the  only  sick 
man  in  the  crowd  and  he  was  quite  unfit  to  carry  any- 
thing. The  truth  is  that  the  man,  being  really  sick,  did 
not  call  in  the  assistance  of  dramatic  art,  and  he  made 
less  fuss  than  any  of  the  others.  We  were  not  many 
hours  on  the  way  before  I  discovered  the  mistake  I  had 
made.  It  is  very  difficult  to  make  any  change  on  the 
road,  and  is  regarded  as  something  less  than  fair.  To 
accomplish  it  without  a  mutiny  one  must  assume  a  terri- 
fying countenance  of  the  utmost  ferocity  and  cannibalism. 
In  this  I  was  evidently  successful ;  for  late  in  the  after- 
noon I  suddenly  called  a  halt,  waited  until  all  the  men  came 
up,  and  then  ordered  a  man  to  take  the  load  off  the  back  of 
the  sick  man  and  put  it  on  the  man  who  that  morning  had 
been  seized  with  a  fit  at  my  approach.  This  I  did  with 
the  more  relish  because  I  had  heard  him  chuckling  about 
it  along  the  way  and  telling  the  joke  on  the  white  man. 

We  seldom  saw  an  animal  in  the  forest,  although  we 
knew  they  were  there.  The  only  monkey  that  we  saw  on 
our  first  journey  Mr.  Kerr  shot  and  gave  to  the  carriers 
who  ate  every  part  of  it,  inside  and  out,  including  the 
skin — after  burning  off  the  hair.  We  sometimes  heard 
the  blood-curdling  night-cry  of  the  leopard  ;  but  we  never 
saw  one.  On  several  occasions  when  I  was  alone  I  heard 
elephants  plunging  along  the  path  before  me,  or  suddenly 
discovered  their  tracks  at  my  feet,  so  fresh  that  the  water 
was  still  trickling  into  them.  The  elephant  is  not  dan- 
gerous unless  one  comes  upon  him  suddenly  and  startles 


82          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

or  frightens  him  ;  but  if  he  "  charges/7  he  is  terrible.  A 
chief  near  Efulen  was  one  day  walking  in  the  forest  at 
the  head  of  a  hunting  party.  At  a  point  where  the  path 
suddenly  swerved  around  the  upturned  root  of  a  tree,  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  an  elephant.  Before  he 
had  time  to  fire  the  elephant  instantly  charged.  It  put 
its  tusk  through  his  body  and  then  trampled  him  to  death 
under  its  feet.  The  natives  taught  me,  when  I  heard 
elephants  ahead,  to  stop  and  shout  until  there  was  com- 
plete silence  j  which  meant  that  they  had  hidden  in  the 
forest  and  I  could  pass  along  the  path  in  perfect  safety, 
no  matter  how  near  they  might  be.  But  the  first  time 
that  this  occurred,  and  the  second  time,  I  made  the 
natives  prove  their  advice  by  going  ahead  themselves, 
which  they  never  hesitated  to  do. 

In  the  wet  season  I  always  walked  in  company  with  the 
caravan  j  but  in  the  dry  season  I  preferred  to  walk  alone, 
and  often  left  the  carriers  far  behind  me,  scattered  along 
the  road  in  different  groups.  At  a  fork  in  the  road  I  al- 
ways threw  a  handful  of  fresh  leaves  upon  the  road  that 
I  followed,  as  a  sign  to  the  carriers  that  they  might  be 
sure  to  take  the  same  way.  Never  but  once  did  they  fail 
to  follow  me.  On  that  occasion  some  of  the  carriers  were 
boys  of  a  strange  tribe,  the  Galway,  more  used  to  water- 
ways than  to  bush  roads.  Until  the  last  evening  they 
had  walked  behind  others  who  were  familiar  with  bush 
travel  and  whom  they  could  follow  heedlessly.  But  that 
evening  it  happened  that  the  Galway  were  ahead  and 
they  took  the  wrong  road,  not  observing  my  sign  of  the 
leaves  on  the  path,  and  the  whole  caravan  went  astray 
except  two  carriers  who  were  far  behind  and  separated 
from  the  others.  To  follow  their  misfortune  to  the  issue, 
the  Galway  got  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  caravan  and 
arrived  at  Batanga  two  days  late,  famished  with  hunger 
and  frightened  half  to  death. 


BUSH  PERILS  83 

Meanwhile,  I  had  walked  on  far  ahead  until  I  thought 
that  the  carriers  might  require  all  the  daylight  that  was 
left  to  catch  me,  and  then  I  stopped  and  waited  for  them  ; 
though  I  had  not  yet  reached  the  camp.  As  time  passed 
and  no  carriers  appeared  I  began  to  feel  uneasy.  The 
chill  of  the  evening  was  approaching,  and  I  had  not  even 
a  coat  j  so  I  began  to  walk  back  and  forth  rapidly  to  keep 
warm.  Finally,  two  carriers  arrived.  One  of  them  had 
my  food,  which  was  fortunate  j  but  the  other  had  nothing 
that  I  wanted  on  the  road.  The  lost  Gal  way  had  my  bed 
and  extra  clothing,  and  even  the  matches.  We  waited 
for  them  anxiously  and  called  loudly,  but  there  was  no 
answer.  Then  swiftly,  as  always  in  the  forest  of  the 
tropics,  the  day  turned  into  night:  "At  one  stride 
comes  the  dark."  A  heavy,  palpable  darkness,  like 
smoke,  enshrouded  us  and  rose  higher  till  it  blotted  out 
the  leafy  canopy  and  blackened  the  very  sky.  The 
opacity  of  the  darkness  was  such  that  we  could  not  see 
each  other,  nor  could  I  see  my  hand  when  I  placed  it  be- 
fore my  eyes. 

For  a  while  I  forgot  the  loss  of  the  other  carriers  in 
thankfulness  for  the  company  of  these  two  men.  For, 
however  kindly  the  mood  of  the  forest  by  day,  or  how- 
ever joyful  the  camp-fire  by  night  in  congenial  company, 
yet,  to  one  alone  through  the  night,  without  comfort  or 
means  of  rest,  and  with  the  possibility  of  being  lost,  the 
forest  is  truly  dreadful.  One  in  such  a  plight  interprets 
the  forest  through  the  medium  of  his  misery  and  his  fear. 
The  intolerable  vastness  of  his  prison  dungeon  suggests 
the  "  outer  darkness/7  and  the  experience  of  a  soul  for- 
saken. I  was  miserably  cold  and  had  nothing  to  protect 
me  ;  nor  had  I  a  bed  except  a  rubber  blanket.  I  kept 
walking  back  and  forth  on  a  bit  of  path  a  few  yards  long, 
notwithstanding  that  I  had  walked  all  day.  There  was 
but  little  rest.  Occasionally  I  threw  myself  down  on  the 


84:    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

rubber  blanket  but  was  so  cold  that  before  long  I  rose 
again  and  began  walking.  Fortunately  I  was  in  un- 
usually good  health,  for  Africa,  or  the  exposure  might 
have  resulted  even  more  seriously  than  it  did.  My  cook, 
Eyambe,  a  Batanga  man,  who  had  worked  for  us  at 
Efulen  for  several  months,  possessed  the  remnant  of  a 
shirt,  so  much  prized  that  he  had  carried  it  with  him  to 
the  bush,  lest  his  numerous  relatives,  male  and  female, 
should  wear  it  out  in  his  absence.  He  came  to  me  in  the 
darkness  feeling  his  way,  and  said,  "Mr.  Milligan,  my 
shirt,  you  must  take  him  and  wear  him,  please.  This 
bush  he  no  be  too  bad  for  we  black  man  j  but  my  heart 
cry  for  white  man." 

I  took  it,  of  course,  and  wore  it.  But  the  cheer  that  I 
derived  from  the  kindness  of  his  heart  was  greater  than 
the  poor  comfort  of  the  shirt. 

I  thanked  God  when  morning  dawned  at  last  j  but  it  is 
unnecessary  to  say  that  I  was  in  poor  condition  for  walk- 
ing next  day,  the  last  day  of  the  journey.  I  knew  that 
the  exposure  would  bring  on  fever  and  I  walked  more 
rapidly  than  usual  so  as  to  reach  Batanga  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible. I  sometimes  even  ran,  as  if  in  precipitate  flight 
from  a  pursuing  beast.  The  part  of  the  road  over  which 
I  passed  that  day  was  quite  new  and  poorly  cleared.  My 
clothing  may  not  have  been  stout  enough  to  withstand 
the  thorns  and  briers  which  I  encountered  ;  or  else,  in  my 
hurry,  I  was  reckless.  At  any  rate,  when  I  emerged 
from  the  forest,  behind  Mr.  Gault's  house,  one  leg  of  my 
trousers  was  gone  from  above  the  knee,  and  the  other  leg 
was  also  exposed  through  several  rents,  the  remainder  of 
the  trousers  being  fastened  with  numerous  safety-pins.  I 
was  also  scratched  and  bleeding  more  than  on  any 
previous  trip. 

As  I  turned  and  looked  back  from  the  beach  towards 
the  gloomy  and  sullen  forest,  in  the  vivid  realization  of 


BUSH  PERILS  85 

the  exposure  of  that  long  night  and  the  fever  which  I 
knew  was  imminent,  I  had  the  feeling  which  Stanley  de- 
scribes when  he  and  his  long  caravan  emerged  from  the 
dark  prison  forest  after  the  immurement  of  several 
months,  in  which  scores  of  their  comrades  had  died  by 
the  way,  the  whole  caravan  now  enfeebled  and  wasted 
with  hunger,  the  black,  glossy  skin  turned  an  ashen  gray. 
They  ascended  a  hill  and  first  looking  up  yearningly 
towards  the  bright  blue  sky,  they  then  turned  with  a  sigh 
and  looked  back  over  the  sable  forest  that  heaved  away 
to  the  infinity  of  the  west.  In  their  sudden  exaltation 
they  shook  their  clenched  fists  at  it,  uttering  imprecations, 
and  with  gestures  of  defiance  and  hate.  They  apostro- 
phized it  for  its  cruelty  to  themselves  and  their  kinsmen ; 
they  compared  it  to  hell,  and  accused  it  of  the  murder  of 
a  hundred  of  their  comrades.  But  the  forest  which  lay 
vast  as  a  continent  before  them,  and  drowsy,  like  a  great 
beast,  answered  not  a  word,  but  rested  in  its  infinite  sul- 
lenness,  remorseless  and  implacable. 

I  was  not  mistaken  in  my  apprehension  of  fever.  I  did 
not  return  to  Efulen  again.  One  fever  followed  another 
iu  quick  succession,  becoming  at  length  so  serious  that 
my  fellow  missionaries  at  Batanga  united  in  urging  me 
not  to  risk  another  attack.  An  English  steamer  on  the 
outward  voyage  called  just  at  that  time  and  I  went  south 
to  Gaboon,  where  I  sailed  on  a  French  steamer  for  Mar- 
seilles and  thence  home. 

Little  did  I  think  when  I  was  leaving  Efulen  for  a  few 
days,  as  I  supposed,  that  I  was  really  taking  a  long  leave 
of  Efulen  and  Africa,  not  again  to  see  either  for  four 
years,  and  never  again  to  see  Dr.  Good.  That  last  morn- 
ing, when  I  was  setting  out  for  the  beach,  he  walked  with 
me  down  the  long  Efulen  hill  to  the  foot,  where  we  stood 
perhaps  half  an  hour,  formulating  our  expectations  and 
making  the  clearest  cut  plans,  none  of  which  were 


86          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

realized,  although  they  pertained  to  the  immediate 
future. 

The  element  of  accident  is  a  constant  factor  in  Africa, 
that  continually  changes  the  course  of  our  reckoning  and 
overturns  our  surest  calculations.  Accidents  are  no  more 
numerous  there  than  elsewhere,  but  they  are  more  serious. 
Climbing  a  mountainside,  a  slip  of  the  foot  is  fraught 
with  more  danger  than  on  a  level  road.  In  the  hostile 
climate  of  Africa,  the  smallest  accident,  a  moment's  in- 
caution  or  forgetfulness  on  your  own  part  or  on  the  part 
of  others,  may  change  the  entire  future.  Elsewhere  the 
best-laid  plans  of  men  have  about  an  equal  chance  with 
the  best-laid  plans  of  mice,  if  the  observation  of  Burns 
is  to  be  trusted.  But  in  Africa  the  probability  of  the 
future  is  entirely  with  the  mice. 

While  I  was  in  Africa  a  second  time  and  living  in  Ga- 
boon, two  hundred  miles  further  south  on  the  coast,  I 
visited  Efulen  once  more.  The  road  was  much  more  im- 
proved than  when  I  had  seen  it  last.  The  sun  shone 
through  the  arcade  of  vines  and  branches  and  formed 
upon  the  pathway  a  filigree  of  gold  and  silver  light.  The 
mode  of  travel  was  different  accordingly.  It  was  the  best 
time  of  the  year  and  there  was  a  happy  party  of  eleven, 
so  that  the  journey  was  like  a  continuous  picnic.  Four 
of  the  party  were  ladies,  three  of  whom  were  carried  in 
hammocks  and  one  rode  a  donkey.  Besides,  and  chiefly, 
there  was  a  very  sweet  little  girl,  two  years  old — a  little 
splash  of  golden  sunshine  in  the  gray  forest  light,  a  dream 

of  home,  a  fragment  of  a  song Ah  me  !  how  lonely  one 

becomes  for  the  sight  of  a  white  child  when  he  has  lived 
some  years  in  the  jungles  !  Much  of  the  time  the  ladies 
were  walking  and  the  hammocks  empty.  The  hammock 
is  suspended  from  a  long  bamboo  pole  borne  upon  the 
shoulders  of  two  carriers.  But  the  carriers  must  be  re- 
lieved frequently,  for  it  is  dreadfully  hard  work.  Six  of 


LITTLE  FRANCES,  BORN  IN  AFRICA. 

Ah  me,  how  lonely  one  becomes  for  tlie  sif/ht  of  a  white  child 
when  he  has  lived  some  years  in  the  jungles! 


BUSH  PERILS  87 

the  strongest  native  men  are  required  for  one  hammock. 
Little  Lois  also  had  her  special  hammock,  with  a  firm, 
floor  in  it,  so  that  she  could  sit  upright,  and  she  was  per. 
fectly  happy  when  riding  through  the  forest. 

Several  towns  had  been  built  along  the  way  and  in  one 
of  them  we  stopped  each  night,  where  we  occupied  native 
houses  and  slept  on  native  beds  of  straight  bamboo 
poles  covered  with  armfuls  of  grass— as  good  a  bed 
as  one  could  desire.  The  numerous  ticks  in  the  grass 
were  converted  into  bed-ticks — such  was  our  resource- 
fulness of  expedient.  The  only  dislikable  part  of  the 
journey  was  rising  so  early  in  the  morning  when  we 
could  have  slept  on  for  hours,  after  the  walk  of  the 
preceding  day.  But  an  incident  of  that  journey  im- 
pressed it  distinctly  upon  my  mind  that  there  is  some  ad- 
vantage in  eating  breakfast  before  daylight.  One  morn- 
ing we  had  an  oatmeal  breakfast.  The  day  dawned  upon 
two  tardy  boarders  before  they  had  eaten  and  they  were 
horrified  at  discovering  that  the  oatmeal  was  full  of  ver- 
miform animalcules.  Of  course,  they  could  not  eat  it 
and  had  the  poorer  breakfast  in  consequence,  and  the 
other  nine  thought  that  it  served  them  quite  right  for 
being  so  late.  A  doubt  has  always  lurked  in  the  re- 
cesses of  my  mind  as  to  whether  the  joke  was  really  on 
the  two  or  on  the  nine. 

We  did  not,  as  in  former  days,  keep  steadily  to  a  regu- 
lar pace  without  stopping,  even  for  hours  at  a  time,  and 
walking  in  comparative  quiet.  For  the  hammock  car- 
riers go  very  rapidly,  on  a  dog-trot,  continually  shouting, 
and  a  white  man  follows  immediately  behind  each  ham- 
mock. They  repeat  a  regular  call  and  response,  half 
song,  half  shout,  as  if  to  sustain  their  animation  and 
courage.  What  wonderful  voices  they  have  !  The  for- 
est, startled  from  her  deep  repose  as  we  pass  along,  re- 
counds  with  shout  and  answering  echo,  while  we  dash  on 


88          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

over  height  and  depth,  over  rock  and  stream  and  mire, 
for  an  hour.  Then,  out  of  breath  and  in  copious  per- 
spiration, we  sit  down  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  and 
at  the  word  of  command  we  are  off  again  with  a  dash  and 
a  shout.  It  is  all  very  pleasant  and  a  great  improvement 
on  the  old  way,  although  one  pays  very  little  attention  to 
the  forest  and  is  wholly  oblivious  to  its  moods.  But  the 
old  way  is  still  the  regular  way  on  all  roads  except  those 
few  which  the  white  man  has  undertaken  to  improve. 

And  this  disposition  to  "  improve"  everything  he  puts 
his  hand  to  is  a  radical  difference  between  the  native  and 
the  white  man.  The  mental  habit  of  the  native  is  content- 
ment with  things  as  they  are  ;  in  which  he  is  far  more 
happy  than  fortunate.  He  would  let  this  old  world,  or 
this  old  "bush"  as  he  calls  it,  stay  as  it  is  to  the  end  of 
time.  The  unhappy  restlessness  of  the  white  man,  his 
dissatisfaction  with  what  he  has  and  his  longing  for  what 
he  has  not,  his  eagerness  for  change  and  a  improvement," 
the  native  is  sometimes  disposed  to  regard  as  a  morbid 
mental  disease.  But  the  greatest  wonder  of  it  is  that  the 
white  man  includes  the  native  himself  in  his  program  of 
improvement.  He  finds  him  a  denizen  of  the  forest,  his 
mental  habitudes  like  her  changing  moods,  now  sullen 
and  cruel,  now  gentle  and  cheerful  for  a  little  while,  par- 
taking of  her  darkness  mingled  here  and  there  with 
broken  beams  of  light ;  and  as  he  clears  a  way  through 
the  deep  forest  making  the  darkness  light,  so  he  labours 
that  a  gleam  of  heaven's  light  may  shine  down  into  the 
benighted  native  soul  j  that  it  may  lighten  the  path  of 
his  destiny  more  and  more,  and  lead  him  on,  in  ways  of 
purity  and  peace,  till  the  gleam  become  the  "  perfect 
day." 


V 

THE  CAMP-FIRE 

IF  it  is  dreadful  to  be  overtaken  in  the  forest  by  the 
punctual  night  of  the  tropics,   while  unprepared, 
without  camp  or  comfort,  yet,  to  the  weary  man, 
after  a  good  bath  and  a  good  supper,  and  with  a  good  bed 
awaiting  him,  the  brief  period  of  the  departing  day  and 
the  increasing  camp-fire  glow,  the  smell  of  wood  smoke 
and  the  crackle  of  the  burning  log,  are  a  delightful  ex- 
perience. 

The  camp  is  usually  an  open  glade,  where  the  night  is 
not  so  sudden  in  its  fall.  The  shadows  grow  longer  in  the 
evening  light,  and  the  gray  twilight  deepens  till  the  stars 
shine  through.  Then  in  the  red  glow  of  the  camp-fire, 
phantom  shadows  and  eerie  forms  flit  to  and  fro,  ap- 
proaching towards  us  and  receding  into  the  darkness  like 
spirits  impelled  by  curiosity,  and  planning  either  play  or 
mischief  according  to  the  mood  of  the  observer.  In  the 
day  the  man  is  properly  the  master  of  his  mood,  but  in 
this  hour  it  is  pleasant  to  relax  and  let  the  mood  be  mas-, 
ter  of  the  man,  giving  a  free  rein  to  fancy. 

Immediately  after  supper  it  was  my  custom  to  hold 
prayers  with  the  carriers.  Then,  if  the  labour  of  the  day 
has  been  easy,  or  a  Sunday  rest  has  intervened,  they  be- 
come more  sociable  and  communicative  than  usual,  and 
often  prolong  the  evening  with  camp-fire  stories.  They 
are  born  orators  and  can  tell  a  story  to  perfection,  whether 
it  be  a  fable  handed  down  from  others,  or  a  narrative  from 
their  own  experience.  The  knowledge  of  the  native  may 
be  ever  so  limited  and  his  thought  meagre,  but  he  can 

89 


90          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

always  give  it  appropriate  and  striking  form  and  express 
himself  in  forceful  and  sometimes  beautiful  language. 
He  never  hesitates  nor  becomes  incoherent  j  his  words 
flow  like  a  river  and  keep  well  within  the  course  of  his 
purpose.  His  gestures  are  animated  and  infinitely  varied, 
sometimes  grotesque,  more  often  graceful,  and  always  ex- 
pressive. 

He  has  also  a  faculty  of  imitation  beyond  all  men. 
For  instance,  two  schoolboys  (if  we  may  leave  the  camp- 
fire  for  a  while  to  digress  upon  this  native  talent  for  imi- 
tation)— two  schoolboys  sit  talking  together,  myself  paying 
no  attention,  when  one  of  them  imitates  the  clicking  of 
my  typewriter  so  that  I  immediately  recognize  it.  Anew 
clock  has  recently  been  placed  in  the  school,  and  I  recog- 
nize their  imitation  of  its  stroke.  Again,  I  recognize  the 
noise  of  the  gasoline  engine  of  the  launch,  Dorothy,  now 
at  half  speed,  now  full  speed,  now  running  smoothly  and 
now  with  the  peculiar  omission  followed  by  a  heavier 
stroke,  due  to  a  weak  battery. 

A  boy  in  talking  to  me  refers  to  another  boy  by  a  name 
that  I  do  not  know,  one  with  rather  a  peculiar  coun- 
tenance. 

I  say  :   ll  I  do  not  know  of  whom  you  are  speaking." 

He  replies:  "He  looks  like  this'7 — slightly  twisting 
his  face  into  an  exaggerated  and  ludicrous  likeness  of  the 
other  boy,  which  I  instantly  recognize. 

One  day  at  Efulen  the  body  of  a  very  large  monkey, 
killed  by  Mr.  Kerr  or  Dr.  Good,  hung  suspended  from  the 
roof  of  our  back  porch.  The  expression  of  the  monkey's 
face  was  fearfully  human.  It  did  not  look  dead,  but 
rather  as  if  it  had  been  very  drunk  the  night  before  and 
was  sleeping  off  the  effects.  I  heard  our  two  house-boys 
giggling  and  chuckling  on  the  porch,  and  looking  out  I 
saw  them  standing  in  front  of  the  monkey  trying  to  look 
just  like  him,  which  they  did  with  such  startling  success 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  91 

that  I  complimented  them  by  telling  them  that  either  of 
them,  might  exchange  places  with  the  monkey  without 
Dr.  Good  ever  knowing  the  difference. 

On  one  occasion  a  party  of  white  men  and  native  boys 
were  travelling  on  a  river  launch  for  several  days.  Four 
of  the  white  men  occupied  their  spare  time  in  playing  a 
certain  game  with  dominoes.  One  day  when  they  had 
left  the  cabin,  four  native  boys  sat  down  in  their  places 
and  taking  the  dominoes,  began  to  imitate  the  white  men. 
They  were  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  game,  and  did  not 
know  the  white  men's  language,  and  yet  they  presented 
the  semblance  of  the  whole  performance,  each  boy  imper- 
sonating an  individual  white  man — his  exclamations, 
manner,  and  general  behaviour  during  the  progress  of  the 
game,  from  the  deal  to  the  last  trick  and  the  noisy  con- 
clusion. 

This  art  of  imitation  is  useful  to  the  natives  in  hunting. 
For  instance,  a  deer  hunter  in  the  forest  will  imitate  the 
noise  of  two  fighting  bush-deer,  and  he  will  do  it  so  well 
that  any  deer  within  hearing  will  come  running  to  the 
spot.  In  reciting  their  numerous  fables,  in  which  ani- 
mals are  made  to  talk  and  act  so  as  to  teach  lessons  of 
prudence  and  goodness,  the  native  will  imitate  the  noise 
or  the  movements  of  each  animal,  and  some  of  these 
stories  one  might  almost  follow  without  knowing  the 
language. 

This  talent  is  also  useful  to  the  native  in  preaching  the 
Gospel,  which  they  all  do,  great  and  small,  old  and 
young,  as  soon  as  they  become  Christians,  and  often  long 
before.  I  talked  one  day  to  a  group  of  Christian  boys, 
or  young  men,  on  the  words:  "Now  the  serpent  was 
more  subtile  than  any  beast  of  the  field,7'  applying  the 
words  obviously  to  the  subtility  of  the  Evil  One  in  tempt- 
ing us.  Shortly  afterwards,  one  of  those  young  men, 
Nclong  Koni  (whose  name  I  am  likely  to  mention  very 


92          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

frequently  in  the  succeeding  chapters)  preached  to  a  large 
audience  a  sermon  on  those  words,  which  put  mine  to 
shame : 

"You  know  where  you  may  expect  to  find  other  ani- 
mals/' he  said,  "and  you  also  know  their  times."  And 
then  naming  first  the  leopard,  he  told  them  the  kind  of 
place  that  it  frequents,  and  at  what  hours  it  seeks  its  prey, 
while  the  eager  audience  roared  assent.  So  he  did  with 
the  elephant,  the  gorilla  and  others.  But  the  serpent,  he 
told  them,  is  found  everywhere,  often  in  the  path  before 
them,  even  in  their  houses,  and  always  when  least  ex- 
pected. Then  he  compared  its  powers  with  those  of  other 
animals,  describing  the  leopard's  strength  to  fight,  the 
fleetness  of  the  deer  in  escaping,  and  how  the  monkey 
climbs  j  but  how  the  serpent  outfights  the  leopard,  out- 
runs the  deer,  outclimbs  the  monkey.  The  audience 
knowing  well  all  the  habits  of  the  animals  of  the  forest, 
was  wildly  appreciative,  and  several  times  took  the  ser- 
mon out  of  the  speaker's  mouth. 

On  another  occasion,  a  young  man,  Amvama,  preached 
on  the  "Lost  Sheep"  of  the  parable,  describing  its  pe- 
culiar helplessness.  All  the  animals  of  the  forest,  how- 
ever far  they  wander,  can  find  their  way  back — but  not 
the  sheep  j  every  other  animal  has  some  peculiar  defense 
against  its  enemies  of  the  forest,  but  the  sheep  is  defense- 
less. The  sheep  lost  in  the  forest  cannot  of  itself  get 
back  to  the  town,  and  it  is  sure  to  be  devoured  by  the 
wild  beasts.  Ajnvama  did  not  fail  to  apply  this  to  our 
own  moral  plight  as  lost  and  helpless. 

But,  we  will  return  to  the  camp-fire  in  the  forest,  and 
the  dim  and  dusky  company  seated  around  it,  and  the 
larger  circle  of  fitful  shadows  and  furtive  forms  that  come 
gliding  out,  and  back  again  into  the  forest."  The  opaque 
darkness  pours  forth  such  a  volume  of  sound  as  never 
was  heard  in  any  forest  elsewhere  ; — a  thousand  mingled 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  93 

noises  of  the  night,  weird,  and  difficult  to  associate  with 
any  bodily  form,  but  belonging,  one  might  easily  fancy, 
to  the  shadow  spirits  of  the  forest,  some  of  them  perhaps 
the  spirits  of  dead  men — of  those  who,  labouring  under 
heavy  loads,  fell  by  the  wayside,  and  died  of  sickness  or 
fatigue,  whose  skeletons  we  sometimes  pass  ;  of  those  who 
by  the  spell  of  an  enemy's  fetish  lost  their  way,  and  never 
saw  the  face  of  man  again  j  of  those  who  for  some  crime 
have  been  driven  forth  into  the  forest  by  their  own  peo- 
ple, to  die  of  hunger,  or  by  the  beasts. 

Above  all  the  myriad  noises  of  the  night,  and  separate 
from  them,  at  times  there  falls  upon  the  ear  a  prolonged 
cry  of  distress,  that  smites  upon  the  heart,  heard  always 
in  the  African  forest  and  never  afterwards  forgotten.  It 
is  a  succession  of  ten  or  twelve  long  cries,  shrill,  tremulous 
and  piercing ;  rather  low  at  first,  and  vague,  but  gradually 
rising  to  a  cry  of  definite  terror,  and  again  descending 
until  it  is  lost  in  the  volume  of  the  forest  noise. 

It  is  a  little  disappointing  to  find  the  real  source  of  this 
peculiar  cry  ;  and  most  people  never  find  it,  for  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  to  locate  ;  whether  near  or  far,  whether 
high  or  low,  one  cannot  be  sure.  It  does  not  proceed  as 
imagination  suggested,  from  the  spirits  of  the  dead  at 
variance  and  afflicting  one  another,  but  from  a  warm- 
bodied,  innocent  creature,  the  lemur,  which  lives  in  the 
heights  of  the  trees,  feeds  upon  insects,  birds  and  reptiles, 
and  seldom  comes  to  the  ground.  In  appearance  it  is 
somewhat  like  a  bulky  bear's  cub,  but  not  well  armed 
for  offense  or  defense,  and  leading  a  precarious  life  among 
the  stronger  and  fiercer  creatures  of  the  forest. 

And  now  it  occurs  to  me  that  the  Lemures  in  Eoman 
mythology  were  the  spirits  of  those  who  had  died  in  sin 
and  who  could  not  find  rest,  for  whom  expiatory  rites 
were  celebrated  in  the  temple.  It  is  generally  sup- 
posed that  Linnseus  gave  the  name  lemur  to  this  family 


94          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  animals  because  of  the  pale  and  strangely  ghost-like 
faces  of  some  of  them  ;  but  the  peculiar  cry  of  this  par- 
ticular kind  of  lemur  is  more  sepulchral  than  the  ap- 
pearance of  any  of  them,  and  might  well  be  a  reason  for 
the  name  they  bear. 

There  is  one  other  characteristic  sound  in  the  night- 
forest,  though  personally  I  have  not  heard  this  sound 
when  far  from  the  coast.  It  is  a  single  monotonous  note, 
a  little  like  a  low  tone  on  a  flute,  about  ten  seconds  in 
duration,  and  without  rise  or  fall,  a  doleful  sigh  or  sob  of 
unending  remorse.  This  sound,  although  it  always  seems 
to  be  distant,  is  even  more  difficult  to  locate  than  the 
other.  It  is  human  more  than  all  other  sounds  of  the 
forest,  and  yet  sepulchral,  and  the  superstitious  mind  is 
easily  persuaded  that  it  issues  from  the  unseen  world. 
The  source  of  it  is  rather  extraordinary  ;  for  according  to 
native  testimony  it  proceeds  from  a  certain  gigantic 
snail,  as  it  slowly  draws  itself  into  and  out  of  its  shell. 
This  theory  is  difficult  either  for  white  man  or  black  man 
to  verify ;  for  the  sound  is  heard  only  at  night,  and  it 
ceases  as  one  approaches.  But  the  native  is  by  no  means 
likely  to  be  mistaken. 

And  now  at  the  camp-fire  a  native  is  relating  to  his 
fellows  a  strange  legend  of  the  origin  of  this  sound ;  a 
legend  familiar  to  all  the  tribes  of  West  Africa,  and  illus- 
trating a  rare  interpretative  faculty  of  the  native  mind. 
This  is  the  camp-fire  story  : 

1 1  There  was  once  a  wayward  and  wilful  son  who  lived 
alone  with  his  mother.  One  day  coming  home  hungry 
he  ordered  her  to  gather  some  greens  and  cook  them  for 
him.  The  mother,  who  never  resisted  his  wishes,  went 
out  and  gathered  plenty  of  greens  and  cooked  them.  But 
in  the  cooking  they  shrivelled  up  as  greens  always  do. 
Then  the  mother  presented  the  greens  to  her  son  ;  but 
the  son  looking  at  them  accused  his  mother  of  having 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  95 

eaten  the  greens  herself.  This  she  denied  ;  but  the  son 
would  not  believe  her,  and  in  his  anger  he  struck  her  a 
blow  on  the  head,  and  the  mother  fell  dead  at  his  feet. 
Then  he  cried  out  in  anguish  and  sorrow  ;  long  and  bit- 
terly did  he  cry,  but  in  vain.  She  was  dead  !  She  was 
dead  !  He  had  killed  his  own  mother.  From  that  day, 
all  the  days  he  mourned,  saying  always :  1 1  killed  my 
mother  j  I  killed  my  mother  ; '  and  all  the  nights  he 
sobbed  and  moaned  :  i  I  killed  my  mother.  9 

"Then  the  spirits  seeing  his  sorrow,  that  it  was  very 
great,  and  hearing  him  cry  always  day  and  night,  at  last 
were  moved  with  pity,  and  turned  him  into  a  snail,  which 
cannot  suffer  like  a  man.  But  though  the  snail  does  not 
weep  in  the  daytime,  yet  at  night  it  mourns  and  cries  :  i  I 
— killed — my — mother  ;  '  and  so  it  will  keep  on  crying 
until  the  end  of  the  world." 

The  reader  will  of  course  understand  that  the  note  of 
the  snail  is  single  and  bears  no  resemblance  to  these  ar- 
ticulate words  of  the  son's  sorrow.  The  interpretation  is 
purely  spiritual,  and  poetic  genius  could  scarcely  improve 
upon  it  as  an  expression  of  the  unending  remorse  which 
the  sound  conveys  to  sensitive  and  susceptive  minds. 

Sitting  around  the  camp-fire  they  listen  to  the  story  as 
interested  as  if  they  had  never  heard  it  before,  as  chil- 
dren listen  to  the  repetition  of  fables  and  nursery  tales. 
Then  remarks  are  made  upon  a  son's  duty  towards  his 
mother,  and  some  of  them  tell  what  good  mothers  they 
have  ;  for  this  is  the  deepest  reverence  and  highest  senti- 
ment of  the  African  mind. 

"  Whatever  other  estimate  we  may  form  of  the  Afri- 
can," wrote  Leighton  Wilson,  than  whom  no  one  has 
ever  known  the  African  better,  "  we  may  not  doubt  his 
love  for  his  mother.  Her  name,  whether  she  be  dead  or 
alive,  is  always  on  his  lips  and  in  his  heart.  She  is  the 
first  being  he  thinks  of  when  awakening  from  his  slum- 


96          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

bers  and  the  last  he  remembers  wheu  closing  his  eyes  in 
sleep  ;  to  her  he  confides  secrets  which  he  would  reveal 
to  no  other  human  being  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  He 
cares  for  no  one  else  in  time  of  sickness  ;  she  alone  must 
prepare  his  food,  administer  his  medicine,  perform  his 
ablutions  and  spread  his  mat  for  him.  He  flies  to  her  in 
the  hour  of  his  distress,  for  he  well  knows  if  all  the  rest 
of  the  world  turn  against  him  she  will  be  steadfast  in  her 
love,  whether  he  be  right  or  wrong. 

"  If  there  be  any  cause  which  justifies  a  man  in  using 
violence  towards  one  of  his  fellow  men  it  would  be  to  re- 
sent an  insult  offered  to  his  mother.  More  fights  are  oc- 
casioned among  boys  by  hearing  something  said  in  dis- 
paragement of  their  mothers  than  all  other  causes  put 
together.  It  is  a  common  saying  among  them  that  if  a 
man's  mother  and  his  wife  are  both  on  the  point  of  being 
drowned,  and  he  can  save  only  one  of  them,  he  must  save 
his  mother,  for  the  avowed  reason  that  if  the  wife  is  lost 
he  may  marry  another,  but  he  will  never  find  a  second 
mother." 

Following  the  legend  of  the  snail,  several  fables  are 
told  as  we  sit  by  the  camp-fire.  There  is  a  fable  called, 
The  Chimpanzee  and  the  Ungrateful  Man : 

u  There  was  once  a  poor  man  who  had  but  one  wife  and 
one  child,  and  they  lived  in  a  small  house  in  a  far-away 
bush  town  near  which  was  a  stream  with  fish.  The  man 
was  a  hunter,  and  with  his  spear  he  hunted  game  in  the 
forest,  but  the  woman  made  fish-traps  of  basketwork  and 
caught  fish  in  the  stream. 

"  One  day  when  the  man  was  hunting  in  the  forest  the 
woman  took  her  babe  and  went  to  look  at  her  fish-traps. 
She  put  her  babe  on  the  bank  and  herself  went  down  into 
the  water.  Soon  the  babe  began  to  cry  ;  but  the  mother 
heard  not  for  the  noise  of  the  running  water.  Now  there 
was  a  mother  chimpanzee  in  the  top  of  a  great  tree  near 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  97 

by.  The  chimpanzee  had  her  home  there  in  a  safe  place  j 
but  when  she  heard  the  babe  she  felt  pity  and  she  came 
down  to  the  ground  and  taking  the  child  in  her  arms, 
nursed  it  to  sleep. 

"  The  mother,  having  removed  the  fish  from  the  traps, 
came  up  the  bank  to  get  her  babe,  and  lo !  there  sat  a 
great  monkey  and  the  babe  sleeping  upon  its  breast.  She 
screamed  with  fright,  and  screamed  again,  so  that  the 
chimpanzee,  afraid  lest  the  hunter  might  come,  put  the 
babe  down  and  ran  into  the  forest.  The  woman  snatched 
her  babe  and  ran  home  very  much  frightened.  She  told 
the  story  to  her  husband  but  he  only  laughed. 

"However,  the  next  time  the  woman  went  to  work  at 
her  fish-traps  the  man  followed  her  and  hid  in  the  thicket. 
Again  the  woman  laid  down  her  babe  and  waded  into  the 
stream  and  again  the  babe  began  to  cry  and  again  at 
length  the  kind  chimpanzee  ventured  down  the  tree  and 
quieted  the  babe  on  her  breast.  Then  the  man  thinking 
only  of  procuring  a  big  feast  of  meat  drew  stealthily  near 
with  spear  in  hand  and  aiming  it  right  at  the  heart  of  the 
chimpanzee  suddenly  hurled  it  with  all  his  might.  But 
the  chimpanzee,  seeing  him  just  in  time,  held  out  the 
babe  to  receive  the  flying  spear  which  pierced  through 
its  body.  The  horrified  father  had  slain  his  own 
child. 

* '  The  chimpanzee  laid  the  dead  babe  on  the  ground 
with  the  spear  still  sticking  in  it,  and  fled  to  the  forest. 
But  before  disappearing  it  turned  and  said :  1 1  was 
doing  you  a  kindness  in  taking  care  of  your  babe. 
Therefore  the  evil  that  you  would  have  done  me  has  fal- 
len upon  yourself.7  " 

There  is  a  very  common  fable  in  which  the  turtle 
teaches  the  wisdom  and  prudence  of  not  interfering 
in  other  people's  palavers.  The  leopard  and  the  python 
had  a  quarrel.  The  leopard  visits  the  turtle  and  asks  his 


98          THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

help  against  the  python.  The  turtle  says  to  the  leopard  : 
"  Come  again  to-morrow  evening." 

Then  the  python  comes  to  the  turtle  and  asks  his  help 
against  the  leopard,  and  the  turtle  says  to  the  python  : 
a  Come  again  to-morrow  evening." 

The  next  evening  the  python  comes  again  to  the  turtle 
and  asks  his  help  against  the  leopard.  The  turtle  says 
to  the  python  :  "  Go  hide  in  the  thicket  and  keep  still 
for  a  while." 

Then  the  leopard  conies  to  the  turtle  and  asks  his  help 
against  the  python.  "  Go  hide  in  the  thicket,"  says  the 
turtle. 

Then  the  leopard  ran  into  the  thicket  and  walked  on  top 
of  the  python. 

"  Now,"  says  the  turtle  to  the  python  and  the  leopard, 
u  you  can  settle  your  own  palaver." 

Another  man  tells  why  it  is  that  the  leopard  has  no 
friend  among  all  the  animals,  but  walks  always  alone  in 
the  forest.  Once  upon  a  time  a  chief  made  a  great  trap 
to  catch  animals.  First  a  gazelle  fell  into  the  trap. 
Then  he  cried  and  cried  to  his  companion  (the  story- 
teller imitates  the  cry  of  this  and  the  following  animals  to 
a  critical  but  delighted  audience)  but  the  gazelle's  com- 
panion did  not  hear  and  he  died  there,  for  the  chief  was 
away  on  a  journey.  Then  a  wild  boar  came  and  was 
caught  and  he  also  cried  to  his  companion.  Then  an 
antelope  came  and  was  caught.  They  all  died  in  the 
trap.  Then  came  a  leopard  and  was  caught,  but  before 
the  leopard  died  a  turtle  came  j  and  the  turtle  felt  pity  for 
the  leopard  and  released  him.  Then  the  leopard  wanted 
to  kill  the  turtle  which  had  released  him.  So  the  turtle 
crawled  inside  of  a  hollow  tree.  The  leopard  followed 
the  turtle  into  the  tree,  but  he  got  fast  in  the  tree  and 
could  not  get  out. 

Now  this  was  a  tree  that  bears  fruit  upon  which 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  99 

monkeys  feed.  So  after  a  while  there  came  a  blue- nosed 
monkey  to  eat  the  fruit  of  the  tree.  Then  there  came  a 
white-nosed  monkey  ;  then  a  red-headed  monkey  ;  then  a 
black  monkey.  When  the  leopard  heard  the  noise  of 
the  monkeys  he  begged  them  to  come  and  release  him. 
Then  the  monkeys  all  came  and  got  the  leopard  out  of  the 
tree.  But  no  sooner  did  the  leopard  find  himself  safe 
than  he  fought  with  the  monkeys,  and  he  killed  the  white- 
nosed  monkey  and  the  red-headed  monkey  and  ate  them. 
Then  the  black-haired  monkey,  who  had  escaped  up  a 
tree,  said  to  the  leopard  :  "  You  leopards  are  rogues  and 
treacherous.  We  helped  you  and  saved  your  life,  and  as 
soon  as  you  were  helped  you  turned  on  us  and  began  to 
kill  us."  So  the  leopard  to  this  day  has  no  friends,  but 
walks  alone  in  the  forest,  for  he  cannot  be  trusted.  And 
there  are  men  who  cannot  be  trusted  any  more  than  the 
leopard  ;  therefore  they  live  without  friends. 

"Oh,"  cried  the  audience,  "men  do  not  know  the 
language  of  the  leopard  and  the  language  of  the  monkey." 
"No,"  replies  the  story-teller,  "men  cannot  speak  the 
language  of  either  of  these  animals  ;  but  some  men  have 
fetishes  by  which  they  can  understand  the  language  of  all 
animals  when  they  hear  them  talk." 

A  man  tells  "  a  true  story  "  about  a  slave  who  lives  hi 
his  town,  and  who  frequently  turns  himself  into  a  leopard 
and  eats  the  sheep  of  the  town.  He  has  also,  in  the  form 
of  a  leopard,  attacked  men  and  women  of  the  town,  who 
had  offended  him.  Everybody  in  the  town  knows  this  to 
be  true. 

This  suggests  to  another  the  story  of  a  magic  fight.  A 
certain  stranger  coming  into  a  town  walked  rudely 
against  a  man,  wishing  to  quarrel  with  him  that  he  might 
get  his  goods.  The  man  said  nothing,  but  expecting  that 
the  stranger  would  return  and  try  to  provoke  a  fight  he 
prepared  himself  by  making  medicine  j  for  he  had  great 


100        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

knowledge  of  medicine  and  magic,  though  he  never  used 
his  knowledge  except  in  self-defense.  The  stranger  re- 
turned as  he  expected  and  again  walked  rudely  against 
him.  The  man  said  to  the  stranger :  "Do  you  want  to 
fight  with  me?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  stranger,  and  he  cursed  the  man's 
mother,  at  which  the  man  struck  him. 

Kow  the  stranger  was  a  powerful  witch,  and  immedi- 
ately he  turned  into  a  leopard  j  but  to  his  great  surprise 
his  opponent  also  turned  into  a  leopard.  Then  a  terrible 
fight  took  place  between  the  two  leopards.  They  leaped 
and  sprang  upon  each  other  and  howled  so  frightfully 
that  the  women  of  the  town  fell  down  with  fear ;  but  the 
men  all  gathered  around  the  fighting  leopards.  Then 
suddenly  the  stranger  turned  himself  into  a  python  and 
springing  upon  the  leopard  threw  a  deadly  coil  around  its 
neck  j  but  the  other  leopard  also  turned  into  a  python,  and 
the  pythons  fought  together,  coiling  about  each  other,  hiss- 
ing, and  biting.  Then  the  stranger  turned  into  a  gorilla 
that  he  might  seize  the  python  and  choke  it  in  his  terrible 
hands,  but  the  other  python  also  turned  into  a  gorilla,  and 
the  gorillas  fought  and  tried  to  squeeze  each  other  to  death. 
At  last  the  stranger,  getting  exhausted,  turned  into  an 
eagle  that  he  might  fly  away,  but  the  other  also  turned 
into  an  eagle,  and  pursuing  him  dealt  him  a  fatal  blow. 
The  dying  eagle  changed  again  into  a  man  and  begged 
the  other  man  for  mercy,  which  was  refused.  He  would 
not  make  medicine  for  him,  and  so  the  stranger  died. 

On  one  of  these  camp-fire  occasions  a  coast  man  who 
had  been  employed  at  Efulen  tells  how  he  recovered  cer- 
tain goods  that  a  Bulu  workman  had  stolen  from  him. 
He  called  together  all  the  workmen,  both  Bulu  and  coast 
men,  and  after  telling  them  that  his  goods  had  been 
stolen  he  proposed  to  discover  the  thief  by  ordeal.  He 
told  them  of  an  ordeal  that  was  well  known  in  his  town, 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  101 

and  thut  never  failed.  Then  he  produced  a  dish  of  medi- 
cine he  had  made,  which  he  said  he  would  squirt  into  the 
eye  of  each  man.  In  the  eye  of  an  innocent  person  it 
would  be  harmless  as  water,  but  it  would  burn  the  eye  of 
the  guilty  one.  From  the  first  he  had  suspected  a  certain 
Bulu  man,  but  he  wanted  formal  evidence  and  the  best 
evidence  would  be  the  man's  confession,  which  he  deter- 
mined to  obtain.  He  stood  the  men  in  a  row,  with  the 
suspected  Bulu  man  near  the  last.  Then  he  began  squirt- 
ing a  copious  dose  of  medicine  into  an  eye  of  each  man  in 
turn.  It  did  not  hurt  in  the  least,  for  the  very  good 
reason  that  it  was  nothing  but  water — which  nobody 
knew  but  himself.  Then  when  he  came  to  the  suspected 
man,  he  slipped  a  handful  of  red  pepper  into  the  water, 
and  squirted  it  into  the  man's  eye.  A  sudden  scream,  a 
full  confession,  and  the  goods  restored  were  some  of  the 
more  important  effects  of  this  wonderful  ordeal.  And 
many  African  ordeals  are  useful  for  discovering  a  criminal 
when  you  happen  to  know  who  he  is. 

One  man  tells  i  ( a  true  story "  of  an  evil  spirit  who 
hates  people  and  who  spreads  disease  and  death.  He 
once  appeared  in  the  forest  near  a  town,  in  the  form  of  a 
little  child,  evidently  lost  and  hungry,  and  crying  bit- 
terly. Some  kind-hearted  woman  finding  him  took  pity 
on  him  and  carried  him  to  the  town  in  her  arms.  But 
she  was  soon  smitten  with  smallpox,  which  spread  from 
iier  to  others  and  the  whole  town  was  destroyed. 

However  the  evening  may  begin  with  fable  and  fiction, 
it  usually  ends  with  narratives  of  fact  and  experience. 
But  their  facts  are  as  fabulous  as  their  fables  and  there  is 
no  distinct  line  between.  One  may  listen  to  a  story  that 
is  a  tissue  of  impossibilities,  and  may  suppose  that  the 
native  is  repeating  a  myth  or  a  legend  to  which  the 
imagination  of  at  least  several  generations  has  contributed 
fantastic  details,  only  to  find  that  the  purport  of  the  story 


102        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

is  a  narrative  of  fact  which  the  native  solemnly  believes. 
For  they  know  little  of  nature's  laws  and  nothing  of  their 
uniformity. 

Therefore  " miracles7'  are  always  happening.  The 
miracles  of  the  New  Testament,  as  a  display  of  super- 
natural power,  do  not  at  first  impress  the  native  mind  ; 
not  because  he  cannot  believe  them,  but  because  he  be- 
lieves them  too  easily,  and  believes  that  miracles  more 
wonderful  take  place  in  his  own  town  every  day.  But 
the  moral  quality — the  benevolence  and  mercy — of  the 
New  Testament  miracles  impresses  him  deeply,  and  this 
to  him  is  their  wonder.  For,  among  his  people,  men  and 
women  who  possess  supernatural  power  wield  it  to  an  evil 
purpose,  or  at  best,  in  their  own  interest. 

A  man  tells  of  a  murderer  in  his  town  who  was 
suspected  of  having  killed  a  number  of  persons  who  had 
died  a  mysterious  death,  after  having  first  lost  their 
shadows.  The  suspected  man  was  closely  watched,  and, 
sure  enough,  one  day  they  caught  him  in  the  very  act  of 
driving  a  nail  into  another  man's  shadow.  Everybody 
knows  that  a  man's  shadow  is  his  spirit,  or  at  least  one  of 
his  spirits,  and  if  it  be  mortally  wounded,  or  in  any  way 
induced  to  leave  him,  he  will  die.  No  man  will  long  sur- 
vive the  loss  of  his  shadow.  But  while  witches  and  other 
murderers  commit  their  evil  deeds  under  cover  of  night, 
the  shadow-slayer  chooses  the  day  and  often  the  noonday. 
Many  a  man  has  lost  his  shadow  at  noonday — not  so 
difficult  to  understand  if  it  be  remembered  that  we  are 
speaking  of  the  tropics,  where,  at  certain  seasons,  the  sun 
at  noonday  is  directly  overhead. 

The  people  were  so  enraged  at  this  murderer  who  was 
caught  driving  the  nail  into  a  man's  shadow — was  caught 
only  after  the  deed  was  done,  making  death  certain — and 
who  must  have  been  the  cause  of  all  the  recent  unaccount- 
able deaths  in  the  town,  that  they  carried  him  into  the 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  103 

forest  and  bound  him  to  the  ground  in  the  track  of  the 
driver  ants,  which  immediately  covered  his  whole  body 
and  devoured  him,  leaving  nothing  but  the  bones.  But 
in  the  night-time  his  screams  were  still  heard,  even  after 
his  death,  and  the  people  were  sore  afraid.  His  spirit 
haunted  the  town,  until  at  length  the  people  deserted  it 
and  built  in  another  place.  And  even  yet  the  belated  trav- 
eller passing  that  way  hears  the  screams  of  the  dead  man. 

But  the  greatest  fear  in  all  Africa  is  the  witch.  The 
witch's  soul  is  "  loose  from  her  body,"  and  at  night  she 
leaves  her  body  and  goes  about  the  town,  an  unseen 
enemy,  doing  mischief  and  wickedness.  A  young  man  by 
the  camp-fire  tells  of  a  witch  in  his  town  who  for  some 
time  had  been  "  eating  "  the  children  of  the  town.  It  is 
not  the  body,  but  the  spirit,  that  she  eats,  after  which  the 
child  sickens,  and  gradually  becoming  worse,  at  length  dies. 

The  discovery  of  witchcraft  was  made  in  a  peculiar 
way.  A  certain  man  who  was  sick  and  lying  awake  at 
night  with  pain,  thought  one  night  that  he  heard  a  sound 
in  the  street.  He  crawled  close  to  the  wall  and  peering 
through  a  crack  he  beheld  in  the  street  the  phantom  form 
of  a  woman  carrying  the  form  of  a  child.  She  laid  the 
child  down  in  the  street.  Then  she  drew  the  form  of  a 
knife  with  the  evident  intention  of  cutting  the  child  to 
pieces  and  eating  it.  But  the  knife  was  powerless  to  cut 
because  of  the  bodily  eyes  of  the  man  who  was  a  specta- 
tor. Again  and  again  the  woman  tried  to  dissect  the  child 
and  still  the  knife  refused  to  cut.  At  length  it  occurred 
to  her  that  she  was  probably  being  watched.  Then,  tak- 
ing the  child  up  quickly,  she  returned  it  to  the  house 
whence  she  had  stolen  it,  restored  it  to  its  body,  and  fled, 
without  being  recognized  by  the  man  who  had  seen  her. 
In  the  morning  he  reported  to  the  town  all  he  had  seen. 
The  wildest  excitement  ensued.  The  mothers  of  the  town 
were  in  terror,  not  knowing  who  the  witch  was  that  was 


104:    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

eating  their  children.  But  one  of  the  women  was  taken 
suddenly  ill  and  they  became  suspicious,  though  they  said 
nothing.  She  grew  rapidly  worse  until  she  was  seized 
with  a  convulsion  and  foam  appeared  at  her  mouth,  a 
certain  sign  of  witchcraft  and  that  her  own  witch  inside 
had  rebelled  and  was  eating  her.  Then  they  all  reviled 
and  cursed  her,  gave  her  no  food,  threw  cold  water  on  her, 
mocked  her  agony,  and  exulted  in  her  pain  until  she  died. 

A  deep,  resonant,  hungry  roar  of  a  leopard  arrests  the 
attention  of  the  company  around  the  camp-fire.  It  is  at 
a  pretty  safe  distance,  however,  and  the  white  man  hav- 
ing given  orders  to  keep  the  fire  burning  retires  to  his 
hammock  a  little  apart,  but  takes  his  rifle  with  him. 

The  effect  of  these  last  stories  is  sobering  and  sadden- 
ing, especially  to  a  mind  not  yet  accustomed  to  such  tales. 
A  shadow  lies  across  the  white  man's  heart.  And  that 
same  shadow  lies  across  every  charm  in  Africa  and  mars 
every  beauty — the  reflection  of  the  cruel  ignorance  and 
awful  sufferings  of  its  people.  The  observer  who  does 
not  see  the  shadow  must  never  have  entered  into  the 
mind -life  and  the  heart-life  of  the  people.  The  vast  for- 
est darkness,  and  the  weird  night-sounds  that  befit  the 
darkness,  deepen  the  impression  of  the  camp-fire  stories. 

That  piercing  cry  of  the  lemur,  how  it  suggests  the 
terror  of  the  wretched  man  devoured  by  driver  ants! 
And  that  other  mournful  note  is  surely  the  remorse  of 
spirits  in  the  other  world  for  cruel  deeds  committed  here. 

There  is  now  something  awful  in  the  darkness.  One 
feels  with  the  Ancient  Mariner  — 

"  Like  one  that  on  a  lonesome  road 

Doth  walk  in  fear  and  dread, 
And  having  once  turned  round  walks  on, 

And  turns  no  more  his  head ; 
Because  he  knows  a  fearful  fiend 

Doth  close  behind  him  tread." 


THE  CAMP-FIRE  105 

Sleep  does  not  come  quickly  to  a  mind  depressed.  As 
I  lie  awake  and  listen,  the  noises  of  the  night  reverberat- 
ing through  the  forest,  with  the  rush  of  the  wind  in  the 
tree  tops,  blend  together  in  one  vast  chorus,  whose  music 
is  a  funeral  march. 

The  materialistic  modern  mind  calls  the  universe  a 
machine.  But  the  old  Norsemen  of  the  forest  said  that  it 
is  a  tree,  the  tree  Igdrasil,  that  lured  the  mind  of  a  great 
modern  mystic.  Often  in  the  night-forest  have  I  recalled 
the  Norse  legend  of  the  tree  Igdrasil,  the  tree  of  existence. 
It  is  watered  by  three  streams,  the  past,  the  present  and 
the  future.  The  branches  are  human  history,  the  leaves 
are  the  actions  and  the  words  of  men  ;  the  wind  sighing 
through  it  is  the  sobbing  of  men's  sorrows. 

But  the  forest  is  as  variable  in  her  moods  as  the  mind 
of  a  man.  Stern  at  times  and  sometimes  awful,  yet  again 
she  loves  to  soothe  the  mind  and  impart  a  gentle  cheer. 
If  you  would  know  the  charm  of  the  night-forest  in  her 
most  intimate  and  communicative  mood  you  must  wait 
until  some  time,  as  if  in  response  to  an  inaudible  sum- 
mons, you  waken  after  several  hours  of  deep,  restful  sleep 
that  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  the  forest.  Under  a  roof  and 
between  close  walls  a  wakeful  hour  is  monotonous  and 
miserable  and  the  habit  of  wakefulness  is  a  malady  that 
were  fit  penance  for  mortal  sins.  But  in  the  open  forest, 
especially  when  there  is  a  glimmer  of  stars  shining  through 
the  screen  of  dark  foliage,  a  wakeful  hour  passes  easily. 
One  is  never  lonely  in  such  an  hour,  for  a  mystic  life  per- 
vades the  night-forest,  and  one  realizes  that  it  is  some- 
thing more  and  greater  than  the  definite  forms  which  the 
eye  sees  by  day.  When  these  are  dissolved  in  darkness 
one  is  more  sensible  of  the  underlying,  mysterious  life, 
as  of  a  spiritual  presence.  Forms,  whether  material  or 
creedal,  sometimes  conceal  the  reality  which  they  repre- 
sent. The  noises  of  the  night-forest,  the  mingled  voices 


106        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  innumerable  crickets,  tree-toads,  frogs  and  croaking 
night-birds,  the  chatter  of  the  stream  over  the  stones,  the 
rushing  of  the  wind  above  the  trees,  with  many  unfa- 
miliar sounds,  each  almost  indistinguishable  in  the  thrill- 
ing volume,  seem  but  the  sights  of  the  silent  day  trans- 
formed into  sound,  and  one  feels  that  the  interpretation 
of  the  sound  would  be  also  the  interpretation  of  the  forms 
and  shapes,  of  colours,  of  shadows  and  broken  light-beams. 

This  illusion  may  be  promotive  of  the  native  belief  in 
animistic  nature.  For  the  eye  does  not  see  those  animate 
creatures  in  the  day,  and  to  the  child-mind  it  might  easily 
seem  that  the  myriad  noises  of  the  night  issue  from  rock 
and  hill  and  stream  and  tree. 

Lying  thus  awake  but  restful,  the  blended  noises  of  the 
resounding  forest  fall  upon  the  passive  ear  like  the  con- 
fused echo  of  some  world -orchestra,  or  a  broken  strain 
from  the  music  of  the  planets  and  the  stars  as  they  sweep 
through  vast  orbits,  on  and  on  forever.  For  the  night- 
forest,  unlike  the  day,  speaks  always  musically  to  the  ear 
that  is  attuned  to  hear  it. 

The  soft  sound  of  the  wind  among  the  leaves  of  the 
highest  branches  again  lulls  the  wakeful  listener  into 
sleep ;  and  he  enjoys  it  the  more  because  of  the  brief 
disturbance. 


VI 

A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH 

EFTJLEN,  my  first  African  home,  I  saw  for  the 
first  time  in  July  1893.  It  is  in  Cameroon,  among 
the  Bulu  people,  directly  behind  Batanga,  less 
than  sixty  miles  from  the  coast,  and  about  two  hundred 
miles  north  of  the  equator. 

Efulen  is  situated  upon  a  hill  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  high  and  nearly  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level,  and  is  surrounded  by  mountains.  The  scenery  is 
beautiful  and  magnificent  and  resembles  the  mountainous 
parts  of  Pennsylvania ;  but  in  that  tropical  climate  there 
are  atmospheric  effects  seldom  seen  in  the  colder  latitudes. 
Mountain  and  valley  are  covered  with  a  forest  of  green 
with  here  and  there  a  tree  of  red  or  scarlet,  and  so  dense 
that  one  might  think  he  could  walk  on  it.  From  the  top 
of  Efulen  hill  one  looks  out  on  a  rolling  plain  of  foliage 
that  stretches  away  over  valley  and  hill,  until  it  becomes 
extinct  in  the  dim  distance  of  the  empurpled  hills.  Often 
in  the  morning,  when  the  atmosphere  of  the  valleys  is 
clear,  an  overhanging  mist  cuts  off  the  tops  of  the  moun- 
tains, which  appear  as  elevated  table-lands,  all  of  the 
same  height,  and  precisely  level.  A  few  minutes  later 
the  scene  is  magically  transformed.  The  mist  has  de- 
scended and  filled  the  valleys  as  if  all  the  clouds  of  the 
heavens  had  fallen  down,  while  the  mountain-peaks, 
radiant  with  the  sunlight,  rise  out  of  the  mist  like  islands 
out  of  a  deep  sea. 

I  have  said  that  Dr.  Good  had  already  made  one  jour- 

107 


108         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ney  into  this  interior.  He  chose  Ef  ulen  for  the  site  of  the 
new  mission  station,  and  set  natives  to  work  cutting  down 
trees  and  clearing  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  name  Efulen, 
which  we  afterwards  gave  it,  was  first  used  by  the  natives 
themselves.  It  is  from  a  Bulu  word,  fula,  which  means 
to  mix  ;  for  they  never  had  seen  such  a  mingling  of  peo- 
ple, of  different  towns  and  even  hostile  tribes,  as  they  saw 
daily  on  our  hill,  where  all  could  come  with  safety. 

It  was  but  few  trees  that  the  several  workmen  had  cut 
when  we  arrived.  For  the  native,  especially  when  work- 
ing for  the  white  man,  requires  a  large  amount  of  intel- 
lectual stimulus.  We  found  a  bare  spot  of  sufficient  size 
for  our  tent,  and  there  we  pitched  it  and  began  felling  the 
trees  around  us,  letting  the  sun  down  upon  ground  that  it 
had  perhaps  not  reached  for  centuries.  The  wet  season 
was  upon  us  j  the  rains  were  heavier  and  more  frequent 
each  day.  Our  tent  did  not  turn  the  heaviest  rains, 
which  sometimes  came  in  on  us  in  the  night  and  saturated 
our  beds ;  but  it  did  us  no  harm.  Much  more  serious 
were  the  extreme  and  rapid  alternations  of  temperature 
within  the  tent.  After  a  thunder-storm  it  was  often  cold 
enough  to  make  our  teeth  chatter,  while  between  show- 
ers, if  the  sun  shone  upon  the  wet  tent,  it  was  impossible 
to  endure  the  heat  inside.  At  such  times,  however,  all 
we  had  to  do  was  to  stay  outside.  We  slept  on  camp-beds, 
three  of  which  filled  the  tent,  leaving  in  the  middle  just 
room  enough  for  a  table,  and  we  sat  on  our  beds  while 
eating,  side-dishes  being  placed  on  the  beds.  Our  table, 
which  Dr.  Good  and  I  made  with  a  cross-cut  saw,  and 
which  had  no  legs,  was  a  solid  cut  out  of  a  log  three  feet 
in  diameter.  The  first  time  we  sawed  it  through  our  saw 
sloped  off  in  a  line  at  least  thirty  degrees  from  the  vertical 
and  with  an  increasing  curve,  to  Mr.  Kerr's  undisguised 
amusement.  But  having  served  our  apprenticeship  we 
got  the  next  quite  straight.  And  since  the  slope  of  the 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  109 

hill  was  about  thirty  degrees,  the  log  table,  when  prop- 
erly placed,  stood  exactly  upright,  and  Mr.  Kerr's  ridi- 
cule was  changed  to  admiration  of  our  skill  and  judg- 
ment. 

Most  of  our  dishes  were  of  tin,  which  we  called  our  sil- 
ver service.  Indeed,  there  was  no  want  of  tin,  for  most 
of  our  food  was  imported  in  tins— meats,  milk  and  butter. 
Africa,  as  some  one  says,  is  a  land  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey — condensed  milk  and  tinned  honey. 
There  are  many  varieties  of  tinned  meats,  according 
to  the  labels,  but  they  all  taste  alike  when  one  has 
become  tired  of  them  and  dislikes  them  equally; 
sometimes,  when  one  is  feverish,  the  smell  of  them  is  as 
much  as  an  ordinary  stomach  can  digest  in  that  debili- 
tating climate.  During  those  first  months  our  meats  were 
chiefly  Armour's  sausage  and  some  anomalous  concoction 
of  strong  meats  and  stale  onions  called  Irish  Stew.  We 
bought  from  the  natives  bananas,  plantains  and  sweet  po- 
tatoes, and  after  some  time  we  were  able  to  buy  a  chicken 
on  rare  occasions.  As  soon  as  possible  we  began  raising 
our  own  chickens ;  but  it  was  only  after  several  months 
that  we  had  them  frequently.  Our  cook,  a  young  man 
from  the  coast,  who  spoke  Kru  English,  would  come  to 
me  and  ask  :  i  l  Mastah,  what  thing  you  go  chop  ?  Must 
I  kill  a  chicken,  or  must  I  kill  a  tin?"  He  much  pre- 
ferred to  "kill  a  tin,'7  for  in  that  case  the  cooking  was 
very  simple  and  consisted  in  punching  a  hole  in  the  top 
of  the  tin  and  then  placing  it  on  an  outside  fire— we  had 
no  stove.  When  we  began  to  have  chickens  occasionally 
the  cook  informed  us  that  he  must  have  an  assistant,  be- 
cause "one  man  he  no  be  fit  for.  do  all  them  work. " 
Thus  we  lived  for  two  months  and  a  half,  until  our  house 
was  built.  We  bore  the  rudeness  of  our  circumstances 
by  making  them  a  constant  source  of  mutual  amusement. 
And  often  we  conquered  defeat  itself  by  laughing  at  it. 


110        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

The  hill  was  crowded  from  dawn  until  dark  with  a 
pandemonium  of  naked  and  astonished  natives,  who  had 
never  seen  white  men  before.  They  think  aloud.  Every 
impression  utters  itself  in  a  yell.  The  habit  of  talking 
aloud  to  themselves  is  so  common  that  some  white  men 
have  accounted  for  it  by  supposing  that  they  are  talking 
to  the  spirits  of  their  ancestors.  I  can  only  say  that  if 
this  be  so  they  evidently  conceive  of  the  other  world  as 
being  very  far  away. 

Each  separate  act  or  movement  of  us  white  strangers 
produced  a  shout  of  astonishment. 

"He  walks !"  they  shout,  when  he  takes  a  step  for- 
ward ;  or  :  "  He  sits  down  !  "  as  they  jostle  each  other 
for  a  front  place  to  see  the  animal  perform. 

The  animal,  meanwhile,  rises  to  his  feet,  sits  down, 
then  rises  again,  turns  round  slowly,  lifts  one  leg,  then 
the  other,  lifts  his  arms  and  turns  round  again.  If  he  has 
a  hat  on  he  will  take  it  off  several  times.  If  by  any 
chance  he  should  have  a  coat  on  he  will  take  the  coat  off 
too.  No  matter  how  much  he  may  take  off  they  will  still 
desire  him  to  take  off  more  and  complete  the  vaudeville. 
He  turns  round  once  or  twice  more,  moves  each  of  his 
several  limbs  again,  turns  round  again  as  an  encore,  and 
then  sits  down,  while  the  crowd  yells  appreciation  and 
delight.  Then  follows  a  lively  discussion  as  to  his  ap- 
pearance and  proportions.  Some  of  them  think  he  would 
be  good-looking  if  he  only  had  some  colour,  but  such  a 
complexion  would  make  anybody  ugly.  Others  think 
that  he  is  good-looking  even  as  he  is.  An  interesting 
query,  however,  is  whether  his  whole  body  is  white,  or 
only  his  hands  and  face,  the  rest  of  him  being  black  like 
themselves.  In  order  to  settle  this  urgent  question  they 
beg  him  to  take  off  his  trousers. 

The  white  man's  feelings  are  not  seriously  affected  by 
the  fact  that  they  evidently  consider  his  hat  quite  as  won- 


~   5 


- 

Us 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  111 

derful  as  himself,  and  a  suit  of  blue  denim  a  nobler  work 
than  an  honest  man.  Of  course  the  first  novelty  will  soon 
wear  off,  but  a  white  man,  as  long  as  he  lives  away  from 
the  coast  and  the  older  settlements,  will  always  be  an  ob- 
ject of  wonder  and  excitement,  and  will  be  expected  to 
maintain  his  position  by  wonderful  and  exciting  perform- 
ances. There  is  danger  that  the  missionary  will  never 
get  used  to  it,  but  will  lose  his  whole  stock  of  patience 
and  perhaps  his  reason  in  the  effort ;  and  there  is  danger 
also  that  he  will  become  so  well  used  to  this  inordinate 
attention  that  he  will  miss  it  dreadfully  when  he  conies 
home,  and  is  relegated  to  his  proper  obscurity  in  American 
society. 

Africa  is  not  a  great  solitude  in  which  one  of  an  ascetic 
temper  might  enjoy  silence  and  meditation.  There  is  no 
quiet  except  during  the  night  and  no  solitude  but  the 
solitude  of  a  strange  city  where  one  passes  through  a 
multitude  unrecognized  and  unknown.  For  these  Afri- 
cans will  probably  never  know  us.  Nor  had  we  three 
white  men  any  privacy  in  our  relations  with  each  other, 
either  in  our  tent  or  in  the  house  that  displaced  it ;  and 
for  my  own  part,  this  was  the  most  trying  of  all  our  pri- 
vations. Under  the  circumstances  I  think  we  three  men 
deserved  great  credit  for  not  hating  each  other.  But  after 
supper,  when  it  was  dark  I  used  to  go  out  to  a  little  walk 
about  ten  yards  long  in  front  of  the  house  and  removed  a 
short  distance  from  it,  the  only  smooth  walk  on  the  en- 
tire hill,  and  there  I  enjoyed  a  few  minutes  of  delightful 
respites-Tom  no^se  an^  publicity,  while  my  thoughts  of 
home  and  friends  were  unrestrained.  The  life  in  the 
homeland  seemed  already  painfully  distant,  and  almost 
vague  and  unreal.  Like  Silas  Marner,  when  he  removed 
from  his  old  home  to  Eaveloe  where  he  was  surrounded 
by  people  who  knew  nothing  of  his  history,  so  to  me 
sometimes  the  past  seemed  like  a  dream  because  related 


112        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

to  nothing  in  iny  present  life,  and  the  present,  too,  a 
dream,  because  linked  with  no  memories  of  the  past. 

Even  at  night  the  noise  does  not  cease,  but  only  re- 
moves to  a  distance  where  it  no  longer  disturbs.  The 
people  stay  in  their  towns  at  night,  but  they  usually 
make  more  noise  than  in  the  day.  From  a  village  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill  rises  the  weird  and  incessant  wail  of  their 
mourning  for  the  dead,  an  appalling  dirge  that  chills  the 
blood ;  from  another  village  near  by,  a  savage  noise  of 
war  drums  and  shouting  by  which  they  are  warning  an 
expected  enemy  that  they  are  on  the  watch  ;  from  an- 
other, the  uncouth  music  of  their  dissolute  dance  ;  from 
another  the  cries  of  men  who  profess  to  be  transformed 
into  gorillas  or  leopards  : — on  all  sides  the  noise  ascending 
throughout  the  night  like  the  smoke  of  their  torment. 

How  eagerly  we  welcomed  the  mail !  It  arrived  once 
a  month,  and  was  six  weeks  old.  Even  Dr.  Good,  inde- 
fatigable worker,  and  the  opposite  of  emotional,  was  un- 
able to  pursue  the  usual  routine  of  work  when  we  were 
expecting  the  carriers  with  mail.  They  usually  came  in 
the  evening,  and  all  that  day  we  were  under  a  noticeable 
strain  of  expectancy.  We  were  also  exceedingly  talkative 
and  communicative  for  a  day  or  two  after  its  arrival. 
Years  afterwards  I  once  visited  one  of  our  missionaries, 
Miss  Christensen,  when  for  some  months  she  had  been 
staying  alone  at  Benito,  one  of  our  old  coast  stations.  I 
remarked  that  the  arrival  of  her  mail  must  be  a  great  re- 
lief to  the  extreme  loneliness  of  her  situation.  She  re- 
plied that,  on  the  contrary,  the  mail  day  was  the  loneliest 
of  all,  for  want  of  some  appreciative  friend  to  whom  she 
could  tell  the  news  contained  in  her  letters  and  talk  about 
it.  There  were  educated  natives  around  her  whose  friend- 
ship was  almost  sufficient  for  other  days,  but  not  for  mail 
day.  Her  home  interests  were  unintelligible  to  them. 

My  first  letters  from  Efulen  were  written  on  an  im- 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  113 

ineuse  log  that  lay  near  the  tent.  I  stood  and  leaned  over 
upon  it  as  I  wrote.  When  I  finished  my  first  letter  I 
found  that  I  had  been  leaning  against  a  stream  of  pitch 
all  the  while,  with  the  sleeve  of  a  woollen  sweater  lying  in 
it.  But  the  difficulties  of  letter- writing  were  not  merely 
physical.  Each  correspondent  in  the  homeland  naturally 
expected  me  to  tell  him  all  about  the  natives  and  our  life 
in  Africa.  To  describe  adequately  any  one  phase  of  our 
life  would  require  a  length  of  letter  that  would  have  made 
my  correspondence  unmanageable,  and  to  refer  to  our 
strange  surroundings  without  adequate  description  would 
have  left  my  letters  unintelligible.  I  thought  to  meet 
the  difficulty  by  dividing  my  friends  into  groups,  asking 
friends  of  a  feather  to  flock  together,  and  writing  oc- 
casionally a  long  and  elaborate  letter  to  each  flock.  I 
have  never  succeeded  in  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone, 
but  I  killed  a  number  of  valued  correspondents  with  each 
of  those  letters.  No  one  replied  to  them  but  the  person 
to  whom  the  envelope  was  directed. 

After  one  month  in  Africa,  while  we  were  still  in  the 
tent,  I  had  my  first  and  worst  experience  of  the  dreaded 
African  fever,  although  in  this  instance  it  was  probably 
malarial-typhoid.  It  lasted  several  weeks.  "When  we 
had  been  at  Efulen  nearly  a  month  Dr.  Good  was  sud- 
denly called  to  the  coast  by  the  severe  illness  of  his  wife, 
who  was  at  Batanga  expecting  soon  to  leave  for  home. 
Dr.  Good  was  not  a  physician,  but  with  years  of  experi- 
ence and  an  aptitude  for  medicine  he  had  acquired  such 
skill  in  the  treatment  of  African  fever  that  he  was  almost 
equal  to  a  physician.  As  for  myself,  I  summed  up  my 
experience  in  the  statement  that  once  in  my  life  I  had 
had  a  severe  headache.  I  do  not  remember  whether 
Mr.  Kerr's  experience  had  been  as  extensive  as  mine. 
We  both  had  a  vague  consciousness  when  Dr.  Good  left 
for  the  coast  that  our  situation  was  precarious  and  fraught 


114:   THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

with  some  danger  : — in  a  country  called  the  Whiteman's 
Grave,  under  conditions  that  even  in  America  would  have 
taxed  the  constitution  of  the  strongest.  In  the  light  of 
later  knowledge  we  could  have  greatly  improved  upon 
our  pioneer  methods,  and  they  seemed  to  us  quite  ama- 
teurish though  supported  by  the  best  intentions.  In 
coping  with  untried  conditions  and  unknown  factors  of 
danger  one  must  always  expect  to  go  through  a  period  of 
preliminary  inexperience  and  make  preliminary  blunders 
before  attaining  the  mastery.  But  in  Africa  the  prelimi- 
nary inexperience  often  costs  the  life  of  one  and  the 
blunders  disable  another,  while  the  triumph  is  reserved 
for  those  who  come  after.  The  imperfection  of  our  first 
policy  was  inevitable  j  the  present  method,  which  pro- 
vides every  procurable  comfort  for  men  so  situated,  is 
not  only  more  humane  but  immensely  more  economical. 
It  is  only  in  the  last  few  years  that  missions  have  become 
a  science — at  least  in  Africa,  and  that  those  who  go  to 
dangerous  and  unknown  places  may  profit  by  the  formu- 
lated experience  of  those  who  have  gone  to  such  places 
before.  Of  course  it  was  never  intended  that  two  new 
arrivals,  Mr.  Kerr  and  myself,  should  be  left  alone  at  a 
new  station.  But  the  unexpected  emergency  which  called 
Dr.  Good  to  the  coast  is  typical  of  the  miscarriage  of  the 
surest  plans  that  men  can  make  in  Africa. 

Only  a  few  days  after  Dr.  Good  left  Efulen  I  was 
stricken  with  the  fever.  The  approach  of  it  is  very  pe- 
culiar, especially  the  first  time.  I  mistook  it  for  a  spell 
of  homesickness ;  for  one  becomes  extremely  depressed. 
I  thought  I  had  been  brave,  but  all  at  once  the  very  pith 
of  my  resolution  was  gone.  I  felt  that  I  had  overrated 
my  courage.  The  life  which  I  had  chosen  seemed  a  doom 
from  which  there  was  now  no  honourable  escape.  My 
feelings  recoiled  in  an  agony  of  revolt  that  was  mentally 
prostrating.  It  was  the  fever  and  I  did  not  know.  It 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  115 

was  night  and  I  was  walking  near  the  house,  but  I  was 
too  tired  to  continue  walking,  and  I  lay  down  on  the 
ground  in  the  dim  starshine  and  wept  for  home, — it  was 
many  years  ago  and  I  was  very  young.  I  was  not  sur- 
prised that  I  had  a  severe  headache,  for  I  thought  it  was 
the  result  of  my  mental  agitation.  The  next  day  I  was 
worse,  and  the  following  night  I  was  delirious  the  whole 
night,  but  morning  brought  relief.  I  did  not  think  it 
could  be  fever  for  the  symptoms  were  not  what  I  had  ex- 
pected. We  were  pitiably  helpless. 

At  last,  a  happy  thought  striking  Mr.  Kerr,  he  ex- 
claimed :  "  I  have  a  thermometer  :  that  will  tell  us." 

"It  would  tell  us,"  said  I,  "if  .we  knew  what  normal 
temperature  is  ;  but  for  my  part  I  don't  know,  though  I 
think  it  is  212°  " — perhaps  I  was  still  delirious. 

Mr.  Kerr  suggested  that  it  might  be  marked  on  the 
thermometer.  And,  if  not,  I  said  that  he  might  take  his 
own  temperature  first,  and  so  ascertain  the  normal. 

However,  it  was  marked  on  the  thermometer  at  ninety- 
eight  and  two-fifths  degrees,  or  thereabouts.  Mr.  Kerr 
then  took  my  temperature  and  found  that  it  was  105°. 
In  the  evening  it  was  106°.  Next  day  it  was  the  same, 
and  so  the  fever  raged  for  several  days.  We  dispatched  a 
messenger  to  Dr.  Good,  reporting  to  him  also  my  temper- 
ature for  "two  days.  It  was  the  tenth  day  of  the  fever  be- 
fore he  reached  me,  though  he  started  immediately ;  for  the 
roads  were  at  the  worst.  He  had  no  expectation  that  I 
would  be  alive.  Meantime  I  had  begun  to  take  quinine. 
The  wet  season  was  now  at  the  worst.  The  tent  was  not 
sufficient  to  turn  the  heaviest  rains,  which  sometimes 
came  through  and  saturated  the  bed.  Between  showers 
the  sun  came  out  so  strong  that  I  was  compelled  to  leave 
bed  and  rush  outside  for  fresh  air.  After  several  days 
of  this,  Mr.  Kerr  suggested  that  my  bed  be  moved  into 
the  house  of  the  workmen,  which  had  only  an  earthen 


116        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

floor  with  a  considerable  slant  to  it.  But  it  had  at  least 
a  thatch  roof  that  would  turn  rain  and  would  afford  a 
better  protection  against  the  sun.  There  was  a  square 
opening  for  a  window  over  which  we  hung  a  salt-bag. 
Then  followed  a  long  fight  for  life,  through  several  weeks, 
and  a  slow  victory  due  chiefly  to  the  kindness  and  untir- 
ing care  of  my  associates.  Dr.  Good  after  his  arrival 
nursed  me  day  and  night.  "What  is  usually  known  as 
African  fever  ends  fatally  or  otherwise  in  a  few  days.  I 
therefore  concluded  long  afterwards  that  it  must  have 
been  malarial-typhoid. 

We  each  have  our  foibles  and  whims  which  sickness 
sometimes  brings  into  strong  relief.  One  of  my  own  I 
cannot  forbear  relating.  After  several  days  of  sickness, 
when  I  knew  that  it  was  fever,  and  recovery  seemed  hope- 
less, my  mind  turned  to  the  meagre  and  unique  under- 
taking formalities  in  such  a  place  as  Efulen.  The  fact 
that  no  boards  were  procurable  did  not  trouble  me  in  the 
least;  I  felt  that  I  could  be  comfortable  in  a  cotton 
blanket  or  a  rubber  sheet.  But  I  had  a  great  longing  for 
a  genuine  white  shirt  laundered  in  America.  Through 
all  the  successive  changes  of  clothing  by  which  I  had 
gradually  discarded  the  total  apparel  of  civilization  I  had 
maintained  a  serene  attitude.  But,  for  that  final  cere- 
mony, after  which  there  should  be  no  more  changes,  I  had 
a  childish  desire  for  something  that  would  separate  me 
from  the  rude  and  savage  surroundings  of  Africa  and  that 
would  serve  to  designate  the  civilization  to  which  I  really 
belonged ;  and  the  most  civilized  article  I  could  think  of 
was  a  white  shirt  such  as  those  I  had  packed  away  in  the 
bottom  of  a  trunk  at  Batanga. 

A  little  incident  of  that  period  will  further  illustrate 
the  helpnessness  of  bachelor  white  men  in  such  an  emer- 
gency. One  day,  when  I  had  been  ill  a  week,  I  became 
hungry  for  the  first  time  ;  but  not  so  hungry  that  I  could 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  117 

eat  corned  beef,  sardines,  or  Irish  stew  j  and  we  had  not 
yet  been  able  to  procure  a  chicken  or  even  an  egg  from 
the  natives.  Mr.  Kerr  looking  hopelessly  over  the  pile 
of  tins  suddenly  discovered  one  little  tin  of  oysters,  which 
had  gotten  into  our  supplies  by  some  happy  mischance. 
He  shouted  for  joy  and  came  running  to  show  it  to  me. 
Nothing  could  have  been  better  ;  and  when  he  asked  me 
how  I  would  like  to  have  them  prepared,  I  said  I  would 
like  them  stewed  in  milk.  He  soon  brought  them  to  me 
steaming,  and  even  the  odour  seemed  to  invigorate  me. 
I  took  a  spoonful — and  with  a  nauseous  exclamation  I 
spewed  it  into  the  middle  of  the  room.  Dear  reader, 
condensed  milk  is  forty  per  cent,  sugar. 

Two  other  incidents  of  those  days  will  serve  to  exhibit 
certain  native  characteristics  that  I  may  not  have  occasion 
to  notice  again.  A  party  of  natives  were  going  to  the  coast 
and  on  the  way  they  stopped  at  Efulen.  Hearing  how 
very  ill  I  was,  and  consulting  with  the  workmen,  they 
concluded  that  I  might  live  one  more  day,  or  two  days 
at  the  most.  Accordingly  when  they  reached  the  coast, 
the  two  days  having  expired,  they  reported  to  my  friends 
that  I  was  dead.  The  report  was  credited  for  several 
days,  although  in  the  mind  of  some  there  was  a  doubt. 
It  was  only  when  these  messengers  appeared  again  and 
they  asked  them  about  the  details  of  the  funeral  that  the 
story  broke  down  notwithstanding  the  fine  imagination 
of  the  natives ;  for  they  had  never  seen  a  white  man 
buried,  and  their  own  customs  were  very  different.  They 
evidently  made  me  so  misconduct  myself  at  my  own 
funeral  that  my  friends  concluded  that  I  was  alive.  But 
that  was  the  nearest  I  ever  came  to  an  untimely  end.  I 
would  not  by  any  means  call  those  natives  unmitigated 
liars.  Not  every  white  man  can  maintain  the  distinction 
between  fact  and  conviction. 

Again,  one  night  when  the  fever  was  at  the  worst,  a 


118        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

small  boy,  Lolo,  who  was  sitting  by  my  bed  keeping  cold 
water  on  my  head,  told  me  that  there  was  no  more  water. 
This  was  the  fault  of  the  cook,  a  man  of  Batanga.  Mr. 
Kerr  was  asleep  in  the  other  end  of  the  house,  and  he 
needed  sleep.  I  sent  for  the  cook  and  told  him  to  go 
quickly  and  bring  water.  There  was  a  good  spring  part 
way  down  the  hill  a  short  distance  behind  the  house. 
The  man  refused  to  go,  though  he  had  never  been  dis- 
obedient before.  He  was  afraid  of  the  darkness.  It  was 
useless  to  threaten  him  or  quarrel  with  him,  and  worse 
than  useless  for  a  sick  man.  "No  power  under  heaven 
could  have  compelled  him  to  go  to  that  spring  alone  ;  nor 
was  there  any  one  on  the  premises  who  would  go  with 
him.  Not  all  are  so  cowardly  in  the  night ;  but  there  are 
many  strong  men  in  Africa  who  would  fight  bravely  to 
death  with  any  visible  or  natural  foe,  but  are  arrant 
cowards  before  the  creatures  of  their  own  imagination  ; 
invisible  and  supernatural  enemies  with  which  they  fill 
the  darkness  of  the  night.  , 

It  was  a  great  day  for  us  when  our  new  house  was 
finished.  It  was  made  entirely  of  native  material  and  was 
much  like  a  native  house  except  that  it  had  a  floor  and 
was  elevated  from  the  ground  and  had  swinging  doors  and 
windows.  Like  all  houses  of  white  men  in  Africa  it  was 
set  on  posts  about  six  feet  from  the  ground.  The  walls 
were  of  bark,  in  pieces  six  feet  long  and  from  a  foot  to 
two  feet  in  width.  The  bark  is  held  by  split  bamboo  the 
size  of  laths,  placed  horizontally,  six  inches  apart  and 
tied  with  bush-rope  made  of  the  abundant  vine,  which  is 
split  and  shaved  down  with  a  knife.  The  roof,  which 
was  supported  by  rafters  of  bamboo,  was  of  palm  thatch. 
This  roof  turns  the  rain  perfectly  and  is  much  cooler  than 
any  other  kind.  There  was  no  ceiling  in  the  house. 

The  changes  of  temperature  at  Efulen  being  very  sud- 
den, and  immediately  felt  within  the  thin  walls  of  our 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  119 

house,  we  had  need  of  fire,  and  we  made  a  fireplace  by  a 
simple  device  for  which  we  claimed  joint  credit.  We  cut 
a  hole  in  the  floor  and  built  the  ground  up  from  below  to 
the  level  of  the  floor.  There  was  no  chimney,  not  even 
a  hole  for  the  smoke  to  escape ;  but  it  got  out  easily 
enough  through  the  opening  (the  width  of  the  rafters) 
between  the  walls  and  the  roof.  Usually  we  found  it 
very  pleasant  to  sit  around  a  good  fire  in  such  a  fireplace, 
and  the  smoke  troubled  us  but  very  little.  Often  how- 
ever by  reason  of  some  sudden  change  of  wind,  or  pass- 
ing whirlwind,  the  smoke  was  seized  with  panic  and 
spread  in  a  black  cloud  through  the  room,  so  enveloping 
us  and  suffocating  our  senses  that  the  fire  itself  was 
wholly  inferential,  on  the  principle  that  where  there  was 
so  much  smoke  there  must  be  some  fire.  Many  a  thought 
of  siderial  sublimity,  in  the  moment  of  its  utterance,  was 
thus  strangled  in  a  mouthful  of  smoke  and  ashes. 

The  whole  house  was  twenty-four  feet  long  and  sixteen 
feet  wide.  There  were  five  rooms  in  all.  The  parti- 
tions were  of  bark  and  did  not  reach  to  the  roof  but  were 
eight  feet  high.  We  had  greatly  improved  our  furni- 
ture. Those  who  admire  mission  furniture  ought  to  have 
seen  ours.  Instead  of  the  first  table,  which  was  a  solid 
piece  of  log  turned  on  end,  Dr.  Good  and  I  sawed  a  cut 
six  inches  wide  out  of  that  same  log,  and  Mr.  Kerr  put 
rustic  legs  into  it.  The  chairs  were  made  exactly  the 
same  way  but  cut  from  smaller  logs. 

In  such  a  house,  seated  upon  such  chairs  and  around 
such  a  table  we  sat  each  evening  after  supper,  indulging 
in  a  social  hour.  And  while  the  votaries  of  the  simple 
life  in  the  far-away  homeland  were  absorbed  in  the  dis- 
cussion of  such  questions  as  How  to  Avoid  Luxuries,  the 
subject  of  our  discussion  was  frequently  How  to  Obtain 
Comforts. 

We  were  not  always  idle  as  we  talked  j  for  the  evening 


120        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

brought  its  own  duties,  often  of  a  strictly  domestic  nature. 
Sometimes,  as  we  sat  around  the  table,  Dr.  Good  was  en- 
gaged in  darning  his  socks,  Mr.  Kerr  was  mending  his 
shoes,  while  in  a  state  of  despair  I  was  trying  to  put  a 
neat  patch  on  a  pair  of  trousers. 

This  magnificent  house  was  regarded  by  the  Bulu,  not 
as  a  private  house,  but  as  a  public  place,  equivalent  to 
their  palaver-houses.  They  sometimes  showed  resent- 
ment when  we  insisted  upon  the  personal  view  of  it  and 
required  them  to  ask  admission  before  coming  in,  which 
they  were  disposed  to  do  in  crowds  and  at  all  times,  even 
when  we  were  eating.  We  were  always  willing  to  show 
them  through  it  in  groups,  though  it  took  considerable 
time.  Some  of  them  expressed  their  astonishment  in 
vociferous  yells,  but  others,  deeply  impressed,  looked 
around  them  with  a  reverential  air,  like  people  in  church. 
They  came  up  the  steps  of  the  porch  on  their  hands  and 
knees,  as  Africans  always  do  at  first.  The  women  and 
children  seemed  afraid  of  the  height  of  it  and  it  would 
not  have  been  possible  to  get  them  to  stand  near  the  edge 
and  look  down  from  the  dizzy  height  of  nearly  six  feet. 
This  timidity  which  at  first  I  could  not  understand  and 
which  later  disappeared,  I  imagine  was  not  due  so  much 
to  the  height  of  the  house  above  the  ground  but  to  their 
doubt  regarding  the  safety  of  the  floor.  They  had  never 
walked  on  any  floor  but  the  solid  ground,  and  they  stepped 
upon  ours  as  if  they  fully  expected  that  it  would  break 
and  let  them  through. 

We  had  hoped  that  the  climate  of  Efulen  would  be 
more  healthful  than  that  of  the  coast ;  but  the  health  rec- 
ord since  the  station  was  established  in  1893,  has  not 
been  better  than  that  of  some  other  stations.  Personally 
I  believe  that  without  doubt  Efulen  is  more  healthful 
than  the  immediate  coast  at  Batanga  ;  but  I  do  not  regard 
it  as  more  healthful  than  Gaboon.  It  is  certainly  cooler 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  121 

and  owing  to  its  elevation  of  two  thousand  feet  the  air  is 
not  so  humid  and  is  more  exhilarating.  But  the  changes 
of  temperature  are  very  sudden  and  one  becomes  sensi- 
tive even  to  slight  changes  after  being  in  the  tropics  a 
few  years.  In  the  light  of  similar  experiments  made  else- 
where in  West  Africa  it  seems  likely  that  less  fever  but 
more  dysentery  will  prevail  in  those  localities  that  have 
the  higher  altitudes,  and  less  dysentery  and  more  fever  at 
the  coast.  To  some  persons  fever  is  more  dangerous  ;  to 
others,  dysentery  ;  one  may  take  his  choice.  At  Efulen 
the  sand -flies  are  very  bad,  morning  and  evening  ;  but  they 
cease  their  activity  in  the  bright  sunshine  and  also  in  the 
darkness  of  night. 

There  was  a  marked  improvement  in  our  food  after 
some  months,  owing  to  our  obtaining  a  better  cook  from 
the  coast.  The  coast  men  were  at  first  in  doubt  about 
their  safety  among  the  Bulu,  and  none  of  those  would  go 
with  us  who  could  get  a  position  at  the  coast.  But  when 
a  number  of  their  men  had  come  back  alive  their  fear  was 
removed  and  we  obtained  better  help.  Our  first  cook 
was  a  common  workman  who  had  never  cooked  before. 
It  was  part  of  my  duty  to  instruct  him.  To  the  objection 
that  I  had  never  cooked  anything  in  my  life  there  was 
the  compensating  consideration  that  the  best  way  in  the 
world  to  learn  anything  is  to  be  obliged  to  teach  it  to 
somebody  else.  The  moment  that  I  dreaded  most  in  the 
course  of  the  day  was  that  in  which  the  cook  appeared 
coming  towards  me  to  get  the  order  for  dinner.  For, 
with  Irish  stew,  salmon  and  sausage,  what  opportunity 
is  there  for  the  exercise  of  a  fine  gastronomic  imagina- 
tion ?  It  was  the  same  thing  from  day  to  day  ;  and  if  I 
derived  no  other  good  from  the  experience,  I  at  least 
learned  for  all  time  to  sympathize  with  housekeepers  in 
the  monotonous  circularity  of  the  domestic  routine.  Un- 
der my  painstaking  instructions  the  cook  learned  to  wash 


122        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

his  hands  instead  of  simply  wiping  them  on  his  hair  or 
his  legs,  to  place  a  tin  of  meat  on  the  fire  (after  punching 
a  hole  in  the  top)  and  to  take  it  off  when  I  told  him  to 
do  so  j  he  learned  to  put  plantains  into  the  fire  to  roast 
and  to  take  them  out  any  time  he  happened  to  think 
about  it.  But  he  had  not  yet  learned  the  difference  be- 
tween warm  water  and  hot  water  when  he  tired  of  his 
work  and  returned  to  his  beloved  home,  while  I  began 
on  another  candidate  for  kitchen  honours.  About  the 
time  I  had  taught  him  to  boil  water  he  also  wearied  of 
work  and  went  home.  Then  I  hired  a  Bulu  boy  and  be- 
gan to  instruct  him  even  with  more  assurance,  for  I  was 
now  an  experienced  teacher.  The  Bulu  boy  learned  fast, 
though  he  evinced  an  incorrigible  disposition  to  carry  his 
dish  towel  on  his  head,  or  tied  round  his  neck.  Finally 
after  an  experience  of  trials  and  tribulations  in  many 
chapters  I  appealed  to  Mrs.  Godduhm  of  Batanga  who 
trained  a  cook  specially  for  us  j  and  he  proved  a  saint  of 
the  frying-pan.  It  was  this  cook  Eyambe,  who  after- 
wards, as  I  have  told  in  writing  on  bush  travel,  when  we 
were  overtaken  by  night  in  the  forest,  insisted  that  I 
should  take  his  shirt,  and  said  :  "  You  must  take  him 
and  wear  him  please.  This  bush  he  no  be  too  bad  for  we 
black  man  ;  but  my  heart  cry  for  white  man." 

It  was  several  months  before  we  had  flour.  Meantime, 
during  my  long  fever,  I  conceived  a  desire  for  bread  that 
became  a  craving  like  the  hunger  of  famine  as  I  grew 
weaker.  Dr.  Good  sent  word  to  Mrs.  Good  at  the  coast 
to  send  some  bread  as  the  carriers  were  returning  im- 
mediately. He  did  not  tell  me  that  he  had  sent  for  it, 
lest  by  some  mischance  it  might  not  come.  But  when  it 
arrived  and  before  he  opened  the  package  he  told  me  it 
had  come.  Then  they  opened  it ;  there  were  two  loaves — 
all  blue  with  mould  and  looking  like  poison  ;  for  it  was 
the  wet  season  and  the  carriers  had  been  long  on  the  way. 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  123 

The  disappointment  was  too  great.  I  told  Dr.  Good  to 
cut  off  the  worst  part,  on  the  outside,  and  burn  the  rest 
to  a  black  crisp,  and  I  ate  the  burned  bread. 

Flour  arrived  some  weeks  later  when  I  was  again  on 
my  feet  j  and  then  it  occurred  to  us  that  none  of  us  knew 
just  what  to  do  with  it.  For  our  cook  had  not  yet  ar- 
rived. One  of  us  modestly  confessed  that  he  knew  some- 
thing about  making  biscuits.  It  was  immediately  voted 
that  he  take  half  a  day  off  and  exercise  his  culinary 
talent.  The  biscuits  were  made  and  appeared  that  even- 
ing on  the  table.  When  I  surveyed  them  I  suggested 
that  it  would  be  fitting  that  we  should  keep  them  as 
happy  memorials  of  this  first  triumph.  So  saying  I  took 
the  two  that  were  coming  to  me  and  put  them  in  my  box 
of  curios  under  the  bed.  I  have  them  after  all  these 
years.  Time  works  no  change  upon  them. 

Some  months  later  I  had  a  severe  attack  of  dysentery 
and  for  three  days  had  been  allowed  no  food  but  the  white 
of  an  egg.  The  physician,  who  happened  to  be  visiting 
at  Efulen  at  the  time,  told  me  one  morning,  in  reponse  to 
my  eager  inquiry,  that  he  would  allow  me  something  a 
little  heavier  than  the  white  of  an  egg.  I  immediately 
applied  for  a  mince  pie  ;  for  we  had  minced  meat  in  tins. 
The  proposition  was  promptly  vetoed  by  the  doctor.  But 
a  week  later,  when  I  was  again  on  my  feet,  the  request 
was  granted.  This  mince  pie  was  the  most  pretentious 
achievement  that  we  had  yet  undertaken,  and  the  most 
stupendous  failure.  If  too  many  cooks  spoil  a  pie,  as  it 
is  said  of  some  other  things,  I  think  that  the  whole  com- 
munity of  Efulen,  white  and  black,  must  have  had  a 
hand  in  that  ill-fated  pie,  for  a  few  persons  could  never 
have  made  so  many  mistakes.  The  oven  was  a  pot  set 
on  an  outside  fire,  with  another  pot  turned  upside  down 
to  cover  it.  An  explosion  occurred  during  the  process  of 
cooking.  I  do  not  know  what  caused  it — possibly  a 


THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

stone  bursting  or  the  overheated  pot  cracking.  At  any 
rate  it  was  a  good  opportunity  for  Dr.  Good's  wit,  who 
contended  that  the  pie  had  exploded  through  the  neglect 
to  put  air-holes  in  the  top  of  it.  And  that  night  he  pre- 
sented a  resolution  that  hereafter  cooks  should  be  obliged 
to  punch  air-holes  in  the  top  of  every  pie,  lest  they  should 
explode,  thereby  endangering  our  property  and  our  lives 
and  entailing  the  loss  of  the  pie  itself.  I  suggested  an 
amendment,  that  in  no  case  should  a  cook  be  allowed  to 
make  such  pies  upon  tin  plates,  lest  the  plates,  not  be- 
ing observed,  might  be  cut  up  and  eaten  with  the  pie. 
Efulen  has  now  passed  the  experimental  stage.  One  can 
get  as  good  cooks  and  better  food  there  than  at  the  coast. 

In  the  work  of  the  station,  though  formally  we  were 
equal,  yet  as  a  matter  of  fact,  we  recognized  Dr.  Good  as 
head,  owing  to  his  years  of  experience  and  his  compe- 
tence. Dr.  Good  spent  most  of  his  time  itinerating, — 
preaching  in  the  streets  of  the  villages  near  and  far.  He 
also  made  several  long  tours  of  two  or  three  weeks  for  the 
purpose  of  exploring  the  further  interior.  While  at  the 
station  he  studied  the  language,  translated,  and  did  a 
large  amount  of  medical  work.  Mr.  Kerr  had  charge  of 
the  work  of  building,  and  most  of  the  material  work 
necessary  in  establishing  the  station.  I  studied  the  lan- 
guage, did  all  the  buying  from  natives  and  went  to  the 
coast  when  it  was  necessary  that  a  white  man  should  con- 
duct the  caravan.  Later  in  the  year  I  did  what  I  could 
of  Dr.  Good's  medical  work  in  his  absence,  the  chief  re- 
sult being  invaluable  experience  on  my  part,  and  no 
fatalities  that  could  be  proved  to  be  the  direct  result  of 
my  treatment. 

I  am  sure  that  those  who  have  never  been  among  un- 
civilized people,  or  at  least  those  who  have  not  a  vivid 
realization  of  their  ignorance  will  not  know  what  a  lay- 
man with  experience  may  accomplish  in  healing  the  sick 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  125 

and  instructing  the  mind  through  healing.  When  I  went 
to  Africa  I  was  as  ignorant  of  medicine  as  an  educated 
man  could  be,  and  I  had  neither  Dr.  Good's  liking  nor 
aptitude  for  it.  But,  in  the  first  place,  like  other  white 
men  in  that  climate,  I  was  soon  compelled  to  become  my 
own  physician.  For  even  if  there  is  a  professional  physi- 
cian at  the  same  station,  he  cannot  be  there  always  ;  but 
self-care  must  be  constant,  and  so  one  accumulates  a  con- 
siderable experience.  And  what  he  does  for  himself  he 
can  do  for  the  natives.  For  however  ignorant  he  may  be 
of  medicine  he  is  wiser  than  they.  When  I  saw  a  woman 
writhing  in  a  convulsion  I  at  least  suspected  poisoning  ; 
but  they  suspected  witchcraft  and  beat  drums  around  her 
to  drive  out  the  bad  spirit.  When  I  saw  a  poor  boy  de- 
lirious with  fever  and  instead  of  administering  some  rem- 
edy the  distracted  parents  were  only  trying  to  discover 
who  had  bewitched  him,  the  difference  between  my 
knowledge  and  their  ignorance  seemed  immeasurable, 
and  I  could  advise  them  and  help  them,  for  already  I  had 
learned  considerable  about  malarial  fever.  When  a  poor 
child  was  suffering  with  worms,  that  frightful  scourge  of 
Africa,  incredible  to  us  in  the  extent  of  its  prevalence, 
and  the  parents,  though  they  knew  and  could  tell  me  what 
was  the  matter,  yet  knew  of  no  remedy  but  to  change  the 
child's  fetishes,  I  knew,  even  if  I  had  been  in  Africa  only 
a  few  months,  that  santonine  is  far  more  effective  than 
any  change  of  fetishes.  And  no  man  ever  lands  in  Africa 
before  he  knows  that  sulphur  is  excellent  for  itch.  Ul- 
cers also  are  exceedingly  common.  Cuts,  scratches  and 
wounds  are  always  neglected  and  may  become  bad  ulcers  ; 
and  sometimes  the  blood  is  so  tainted  by  the  diseases  of 
vice  that  ulcers  will  not  heal  without  internal  remedies 
such  as  potassium  iodide.  There  is  abundant  need  of  all 
the  skill  of  the  best  equipped  physician.  But  the  ma- 
jority of  cases  needing  medical  treatment  are  simple  in  the 


126        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

diagnosis  and  the  treatment ;  for  the  weak  and  the  sickly 
are  bound  to  die  young.  Fevers,  ulcers,  worms,  and  itch 
are  very  common  and  cause  more  suffering  than  every- 
thing else.  But  any  layman  can  do  something  for  these. 
And  if  he  is  associated  with  a  physician  for  a  time,  he 
can  learn  to  do  much  for  the  relief  of  suffering.  He  can 
do  as  much  as  he  has  time  to  do  j  and  knowledge  grows 
with  experience.  So  it  was  that  even  I,  despite  unusual 
ignorance  of  medicine  and  original  ineptitude,  after  some 
years,  when  I  was  in  charge  of  a  boys'  boarding-school, 
treated  from  fifteen  to  twenty  boys  a  day ;  for  the  parents 
were  especially  willing  to  send  their  sick  boys ;  and  at 
the  end  of  the  term  there  was  very  little  sickness  among 
them.  , 

There  is  much  less  sickness  among  the  tribes  of  the  in- 
terior than  those  at  the  coast.  If  we  knew  all  the  reasons 
for  this  we  might  also  know  why  the  coast  tribes  every- 
where are  dying  out,  many  of  them  being  now  but  small 
remnants  of  formerly  great  and  powerful  tribes.  The 
coast  tribes  have  all  come  from  the  interior,  and  the  in- 
terior tribes  to-day  are  all  moving  towards  the  coast. 
The  change  of  climate  may  have  been  for  the  worse ;  for 
the  strong  sea-breeze  alternating  with  the  stronger  land- 
breeze  is  hard  on  those  who  are  not  protected  by  cloth- 
ing. The  slave  traffic  greatly  reduced  the  coast  tribes 
and  threatened  the  extinction  of  some  of  them  ;  but  it  is 
not  a  reason  why  they  should  still  continue  to  decrease. 
The  excessive  use  of  the  white  man's  rum  without  doubt 
reduces  the  birth-rate  among  coast  tribes.  Besides,  cer- 
tain diseases  have  been  imported  with  the  white  man's 
vices.  And  it  is  also  possible  that  the  greater  amount  of 
sickness  and  disease  among  coast  tribes  may  be  in  part 
due  to  the  better  care  of  children  among  the  semi -civ- 
ilized people  of  the  coast,  with  the  result  that  a  greater 
number  of  weak  and  sickly  children  live  to  maturity  than 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  127 

in  the  savage  life  of  the  interior,  where  none  but  the 
robust  are  likely  to  surviye. 

Many  sick  people  came  to  Efulen,  most  of  them  with 
very  bad  ulcers.  They  realized  the  benefit,  and  it  won 
their  good-will  and  their  desire  to  have  us  stay  among 
them ;  but  I  cannot  say  that  it  won  their  gratitude. 
Even  when  they  paid  nothing  for  medicines  or  for  band- 
ages, they  took  for  granted  that  we  were  in  some  way 
serving  our  interest  by  healing  them.  Their  psychology 
allowed  no  place  for  any  altruistic  motive.  The  outer 
bandage  with  which  Dr.  Good  bound  their  ulcerated 
limbs,  he  used  several  times,  in  fact  as  long  as  he  could, 
for  bandages  were  not  easy  to  supply  and  many  were  re- 
quired. But  his  patients,  especially  the  women,  liked  to 
have  new  white  bandages  each  day,  for  they  regarded 
them  as  ornamental.  So  they  would  take  off  the  bandage 
before  coming  to  him  and  would  declare  that  they  had 
lost  it,  or  that  it  had  been  stolen.  But  frequently  when 
he  would  tell  a  woman  that  he  would  not  dress  the  ulcer 
until  she  should  find  the  bandage  she  would  deliberately 
take  it  out  of  her  basket  before  his  eyes  and  hand  it  to 
him  half  laughing  and  half  scolding.  Shortly  after  our 
arrival  at  Efulen  a  chief  came  from  a  distant  town  bring- 
ing his  sick  wife.  He  left  her,  however,  in  the  village  at 
the  foot  of  the  hill  and  first  came  up  alone  to  talk  the 
palaver  with  Dr.  Good  and  see  what  the  white  man  would 
give  him  if  he  would  bring  his  sick  wife  to  him  to  be 
healed.  Very  frequently  they  asked  for  pay  for  being 
treated  and  for  taking  our  medicine.  The  medical  work 
therefore  did  not  serve  our  missionary  purpose  as  greatly 
as  I  had  anticipated.  But  that  is  no  argument  against 
it.  Duty  is  duty ;  and  to  relieve  pain  and  suffering  as 
far  as  we  are  able  is  a  duty  quite  apart  from  any  consid- 
eration of  gratitude  or  reward. 

No  more  notable  event  occurred  during  the  entire  year 


128        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

than  the  visit  of  Mrs.  Laffin,  one  of  our  missionaries  at 
Batanga,  who  had  only  been  in  Africa  a  short  time,  and 
was  destined  soon  to  find  a  grave  there.  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Laffin  came  in  the  dry  season,  when  the  roads  were  at  the 
best,  and  Mrs.  Laffin  was  carried  in  a  hammock  much  of 
the  time.  Mrs.  Laffin  was  a  saintly  woman,  an  ideal 
missionary  and  a  very  charming  lady.  She  was  the  first 
white  woman  who  ever  visited  the  Bulu  country,  and  it 
required  a  superb  courage.  She  greatly  desired  to  see 
the  Bulu  people ;  and  besides,  with  the  true  woman's 
sympathy,  she  wished  to  know  how  we  were  really  living 
at  Efulen  and  to  offer  suggestions  for  our  comfort.  Our 
new  house,  for  the  first  time,  seemed  very  bare  and  quite 
unfit  for  such  a  visitor.  As  soon  as  we  heard  of  her  com- 
ing I  sent  to  the  coast  for  a  number  of  things  that  I  felt 
we  must  have  for  her  reception.  Among  other  things  I 
asked  Mr.  Gault  to  send  me  some  table-cloths,  out  of  one 
of  my  boxes ;  though  we  had  never  felt  any  need  of  them 
before.  He  sent  me  bed-sheets  instead  ;  but  they  served 
the  purpose  admirably ;  and  we  had  towels  for  napkins. 

One  day,  when  I  was  apologizing  to  Mrs.  Laffiii  for 
our  having  only  the  comforts  and  none  of  the  luxuries  of 
life,  she  replied  about  as  follows :  "If  I  had  loved  a 
fine  house  and  housekeeping  more  than  anything  else  I 
would  have  stayed  in  America  where  both  are  possible. 
But  I  have  chosen  missionary  work  in  preference,  and 
housekeeping  therefore  is  only  a  hindrance.  Now,  if  you 
had  carpets,  upholstered  furniture,  and  pictures  on  the 
walls,  I,  having  a  woman's  domestic  conscience,  would 
feel  that,  instead  of  giving  my  time  to  the  people,  I 
ought  first  of  all  to  oversee  your  house  and  order  the 
housekeeping.  But,  as  it  is,  this  house  gives  me  no  more 
concern  than  if  it  were  a  wood-shed  or  a  stable,  and  I 
can  go  to  the  towns  without  restraint  or  any  conscien- 
tious scruple.  I  believe  that  in  Africa  we  ought  to  have 


A  HOME  IN  THE  BUSH  129 

as  good  food  as  possible,  comfortable  beds  and  chairs,  and 
plenty  of  room,  and  I  hope  that  you  will  soon  have  all 
these  ;  but  for  the  brief  period  of  my  visit  here  your 
house  just  suits  me."  I  may  say  that  I  made  no  more 
apology. 

One  day  while  Mrs.  Laffin  was  there  she  was  buying 
some  food  from  a  native  for  which  she  paid  him  in  salt. 
She  gave  him  the  right  amount,  but  he  as  usual  thought 
it  was  not  sufficient  and  told  her  to  go  and  bring  some 
more.  When  she  did  not  do  as  he  said,  he  ordered  her 
in  the  threatening  tone  that  he  would  use  to  a  Bulu 
woman.  I  immediately  came  forward  and  taking  up 
his  cassava  threw  it  down  the  hill  and  told  him  to  follow 
it  "  quickly,  quickly."  He  looked  at  me  in  surprise  and 
hastened  to  explain  that  it  was  not  I  whom  he  was  ad- 
dressing, but  only  the  woman,  and  that  he  would  never 
address  a  man  in  that  manner.  I  told  him  that  I  would 
far  rather  he  would  address  me  in  that  way  than  the 
white  woman.  But  he  still  repeated  :  "It  was  not  you, 
white  man  ;  it  was  not  you,  but  only  a  woman  that  I 
spoke  to." 

At  length,  however,  he  understood  my  meaning,  but 
was  only  more  surprised  than  ever  and  calling  out  to  his 
friends  told  them,  to  their  great  amusement,  that  in  the 
white  man's  country  the  men  obey  the  women, — which 
was  not  exactly  the  idea  that  I  had  intended  to  convey. 
I  then  told  him  that  if  he  would  tell  the  white  woman 
that  he  was  sorry  for  his  rudeness  she  would  still  buy  his 
cassava. 

It  was  strange  how  Mrs.  Laffin  without  knowing  a 
word  of  Bulu,  and  making  but  little  use  of  an  interpreter, 
yet,  by  the  language  of  a  sympathetic  heart  expressed  in 
manner  and  in  actions,  reached  the  hearts  of  those  poor 
Bulu  women,  and  discovered  some  "womanly  quality  in 
them.  They  all  followed  her  through  the  village,  and 


130        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

they  were  almost  gentle  in  her  presence.  I  heard  them 
telling  afterwards  how  that  in  passing  through  a  certain 
village  she  saw  a  child  who  had  cut  its  finger  and  was 
crying.  It  was  a  cut  that  his  mother  would  not  even 
have  noticed,  but  Mrs.  Laffin  instantly  drawing  a  pretty 
handkerchief  from  her  pocket  tore  it  in  two  to  bind  the 
bleeding  finger.  In  another  matter  they  showed  surpris- 
ing modesty,  which  Mrs.  Lamn  evidently  thought  was 
natural  to  them  j  but,  indeed,  it  was  natural  to  them  only 
in  her  presence.  One  cannot  describe,  nor  even  under- 
stand, the  powerful  influence  of  such  a  woman  upon  the 
degraded  and  fallen  of  her  own  sex  j  but  even  all  good 
women  have  not  Mrs.  Laffin's  influence.  When  she  was 
leaving  Efulen  after  two  weeks,  to  return  to  Batanga,  the 
Bulu  women  as  she  passed  through  their  villages  left 
their  work  and  their  palavers  to  follow  her  far  along  the 
way  in  silence,  only  asking  that  she  might  some  time 
come  back  again. 

It  was  not  many  months  afterwards  that  she  was 
stricken  with  the  dreaded  fever,  that  came  suddenly  and 
unawares,  like  some  stealthy  beast  creeping  out  of  the 
jungle  in  the  darkness.  The  third  day  she  died.  She 
had  been  in  Africa  a  little  more  than  a  year.  Such  is  the 
price  of  Africa's  redemption.  But  we  may  not  say  that 
her  life  was  wasted.  Such  a  life  and  such  an  influence 
cannot  be  in  vain. 


*   <  ? 

X     ?  = 


II 


VII 

THE  BUSH  PEOPLE 


f"  £  "^  HE  natives  of  Efulen,   the  Bulu  tribe,  are  a 

f         brancli    of   the  great  Fang  tribe.     They  are 

1         brown — not  black,  in  colour,  and  are  several 

shades  lighter  than  most  of  the  coast  tribes.     They  need 

not  be  commiserated  for  their  colour.     It  is  quite  to  their 

liking  ;  and  they  think  they  are  far  better-looking  than 

white  people. 

The  Bulu  go  almost  entirely  naked.  The  men  wear  a 
strip  of  cloth  a  few  inches  wide,  suspended  from  a  string 
around  the  hips,  one  end  of  the  cloth  being  fastened  in 
front  and  the  other  behind.  They  wore  only  bark-cloth 
when  we  first  went  among  them,  made  from  the  bark  of  a 
tree,  the  pulp  being  hammered  out  of  it  and  the  coarse 
fiber  remaining.  The  women  wore  less  than  the  men, 
their  entire  dress  consisting  of  a  few  leaves  suspended 
from  a  similar  string  around  the  hips  and  a  square-cut 
bobtail  of  coloured  grass.  Children  wear  nothing  but  the 
string  around  the  waist,  which  is  put  on  immediately  after 
birth  and  has  a  fetish  significance.  An  occasional  rub 
with  oil  and  then  with  red  powder,  made  of  camwood, 
completes  the  toilet  of  the  adults.  Before  our  first  year 
had  passed  some  of  the  men  in  the  villages  near  by  were 
wearing  imported  cloth,  and  in  larger  pieces.  By  this 
time  both  men  and  women  are  wearing  it.  Superficial 
changes  follow  rapidly  in  the  wake  of  the  white  man. 
But  further  back  in  the  interior  the  conditions  are  still 
unchanged. 

131 


132        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

If  they  have  but  little  use  for  clothing,  they  are  ex- 
cessively fond  of  ornamentation,  and  the  women  are 
slaves  of  fashion.  Most  of  their  ornaments  are  imported 
trinkets  from  the  white  man's  country,  which  have 
travelled  far  in  advance  of  the  white  man  himself.  Both 
men  and  women  have  a  peculiar  and  striking  way  of 
dressing  the  hair.  Crossing  it  back  and  forth  over  strips 
of  bamboo,  they  build  it  into  three  or  four  ridges,  several 
inches  high,  running  from  the  front  to  the  back  of  the 
head.  Each  ridge  is  mounted  with  a  close  row  of  com- 
mon white  shirt-buttons.  When  shirt-buttons  cannot  be 
procured,  a  certain  small  shell  is  used.  Sometimes  the 
ridges  are  circular,  one  within  another  like  a  story  cake, 
iced  with  shirt-buttons.  In  addition  to  this  the  women 
often  sew  on  above  each  ear  a  card  containing  as  many  as 
six  dozen  buttons.  Sometimes  they  also  build  a  kind  of 
splash-board  behind  the  head,  from  ear  to  ear,  to  hold 
more  buttons.  The  hair  thus  arranged  remains  undis- 
turbed for  several  months.  It  forms  a  convenient  place 
for  wiping  their  hands  or  the  bread-knife  (which  is  also 
every  other  kind  of  knife)  or  anything  else  that  may  be 
particularly  dirty.  After  dressing  the  hair  grease  is 
smeared  over  it,  from  time  to  time,  which  in  the  sun 
melts  into  the  hair,  giving  it  a  rich  gloss  ;  and  some  of 
the  grease  passing  through  issues  in  a  very  black  stream 
down  the  back.  This  enables  it  to  support  an  amazing 
abundance  of  small  animal  life.  They  are  very  generous 
in  helping  one  another  to  remove  these,  and  in  passing 
through  a  village  one  may  often  see  some  one  reclining 
with  his  or  her  head  in  the  lap  of  a  friend  who  is  per- 
forming this  kindly  office.  It  is  especially  appropriate 
that  a  host  should  thus  accommodate  a  guest.  It  is  done 
in  the  street,  of  course,  where  everything  else  is  done. 
For  if  they  should  retire  to  the  house  any  length  of  time 
something  might  happen  and  they  not  be  there  to  see  j 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  133 

or,  some  bit  of  particularly  spicy  scandal  might  be  de- 
tailed aiid  they  not  hear  it,  and  life  even  at  the  best  is 
dull  enough. 

But  we  have  not  completed  the  decorating  of  these 
women;  for  they  would  be  ashamed  to  be  seen  in  this 
paucity  of  ornamentation.  Across  the  middle  of  the 
forehead  they  wear  several  strings  of  beads,  or  sometimes 
a  strip  of  monkey-skin,  an  inch  wide,  edged  with  shirt- 
buttons,  and  fastened  behind  the  head.  They  also  have 
bangles  three  inches  to  a  foot  long,  all  around  the  head, 
consisting  of  loose  hair  strung  with  beads  of  all  colours. 
But  there  is  still  room  for  more,  and  they  wear  around 
the  neck  countless  strings  of  a  small  blue-black  bead, 
piled  up  sometimes  several  inches  high  on  the  shoulders. 
Occasionally  they  pierce  the  septum  of  the  nose  and  in- 
sert a  string  of  beads  or  a  brass  ring ;  and  the  ears  are 
treated  in  the  same  manner.  A  black  tattooed  marking 
between  the  eyes,  and  two  broad  artistically  designed 
lines  of  the  same  upon  the  cheeks  running  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ear  towards  the  mouth,  complete  the  head-orna- 
mentation of  a  fashionable  Bulu  woman. 

Upon  one  arm,  or  both,  she  wears  an  enormous  cuff, 
made  of  heavy  brass  wire,  an  eighth  of  an  inch  in  diam- 
eter, coiled  into  a  solid  gauntlet,  large  at  the  elbow,  taper- 
ing down  to  the  wrist  and  spreading  again  towards  the 
hand.  It  is  made  on  the  arm  and  is  not  supposed  to  be 
removed.  Sometimes  it  is  worn  on  the  upper  arm,  in 
which  case  it  chafes  the  arm,  and  after  a  while  causes  an 
ulcer.  These  are  also  frequently  worn  on  the  lower  leg. 
But  for  this  latter  purpose  they  prefer  a  large  brass  ring, 
several  of  which  they  wear  on  each  leg,  and  which  they 
keep  brightly  polished.  A  woman  if  she  can  afford  it, 
wears  as  many  of  these  brass  rings  as  she  can  walk  with. 

It  is  strange  that  they  have  no  love  of  flowers,  and 
still  more  strange  when  one  considers  their  instinctive 


134        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

love  of  music.  Passing  through  a  village  and  seeing  a 
woman  performing  her  semi-annual  duty  of  combing  her 
hair,  I  have  suggested  the  decorative  possibilities  of 
flowers  rather  than  shirt-buttons.  I  have  even  gathered 
them  for  her  and  have  put  them  in  her  hair,  and  I  am 
sure  they  were  becoming.  But  to  her  they  were  ridicu- 
lous ;  nor  was  she  moved  when  I  told  her  that  white 
women  in  my  country  infinitely  preferred  flowers  to  shirt- 
buttons. 

The  men  are  tattooed  on  their  faces  and  their  breasts ; 
but  the  markings  are  light  and  scarcely  disfigure  the  face. 
Every  man  carries  at  his  left  side  a  long,  two-edged, 
sword-like  knife.  It  is  a  splendid  article,  which  they 
themselves  manufacture.  It  is  carried  in  a  sheath  of  py- 
thon-skin, suspended  from  a  shoulder-strap  of  leopard- 
skin,  though  sometimes  monkey-skin  or  goat-skin  is  sub- 
stituted. The  flint-lock  gun  had  reached  there  long  be- 
fore our  time ;  and  every  man  had  a  gun  which  he  carried 
all  the  time. 

The  men  are  usually  tall,  athletic  and  remarkably  well- 
formed,  though  not  as  full  in  the  chest  as  a  perfect  phy- 
sique would  require.  Most  of  the  younger  men  are  good- 
looking.  Many  of  the  younger  women  have  decidedly 
pretty  faces,  but  they  are  not  as  intelligent-looking  as  the 
men.  Most  of  the  children  are  beautiful,  with  sweet, 
good-natured  faces  and  lovely  eyes.  Indeed,  all  of  those 
whom  one  would  call  good-looking  have  beautiful,  large 
and  expressive  eyes,  that  can  look  brimful  either  of 
laughter  or  affection ;  and  the  boys,  to  the  age  of  four- 
teen or  fifteen,  have  the  most  beautiful  eyes  I  have  ever 
seen. 

The  Bulu  people  were  unmistakably  friendly  and  flu- 
ently sociable.  It  did  not  seem  to  matter  much  that 
during  those  first  days  we  did  not  understand  a  word 
they  said.  The  women  were  more  sociable  than  the  men, 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  135 

but  the  men  were  more  dignified  and  self-respecting. 
Most  sociable  of  all  was  the  head- wife  of  the  principal 
chief.  In  the  usual  traveller's  book  he  would  be  called  a 
king  and  she  a  queen,  but  these  titles  are  misleading 
without  explanation.  This  "queen"  often  used  to  come 
to  Efulen  selling  potatoes,  half  a  bucketful  at  a  time,  for 
which  she  bought  more  beads.  She  was  getting  along  in 
years,  but  still  maintained  an  air  of  superannuated  gaiety. 
Upon  her  back  were  several  ugly  scars  where  his  lord- 
ship, her  husband,  had  struck  her  with  a  cutlass — an  un- 
pleasant habit  quite  characteristic  of  African  husbands. 
One  day,  wishing  to  strengthen  the  bond  of  friendship, 
she  presented  us  with  a  coil  of  snake  for  our  dinner, 
which  we  declined  with  profuse  thanks.  On  another  oc- 
casion, after  our  house  was  built,  she  came  with  five 
junior  wives  of  the  same  chief,  and  asked  that  they  be 
shown  through  our  house.  I  escorted  them  through  the 
house,  as  one  might  escort  a  party  through  the  White- 
house  in  Washington.  Shrieks  of  wonder  accompanied 
their  inspection  of  every  article.  Finally  this  head-wife, 
in  lively  gratitude,  insisted  upon  dancing  in  the  dining- 
room  for  our  entertainment.  The  feet  are  the  least  active 
members  in  this  singular  dance.  Most  of  the  time  she 
stands  in  one  place  ;  nor  does  she  pirouette  like  the  der- 
vish of  Egypt.  The  dance  has  not  the  gladsome  hop  of 
the  Bohemian  dances,  nor  the  swift  glide  of  the  taran- 
tella j  and  of  course  it  is  altogether  unlike  any  of  our 
conventional  dances.  It  is  an  amazing  and  rapid  succes- 
sion of  extravagant  gestures,  grotesque  poses  and  out- 
rageous contortions.  The  shoulders  and  stomach  and  all 
the  muscles  of  her  seeming  boneless  body  are  set  in 
violent  motion.  If  dancing  is  "the  poetry  of  motion," 
this  is  downright  doggerel.  She  accompanies  it  with  a 
vocal  imitation  of  their  several  wooden  instruments,  as 
incongruous  as  the  dance  itself.  She  seems  to  be  iniitat- 


13C        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ing  half  a  dozen  instruments  at  once,  while  deaf  to  either 
applause  or  remonstrance  on  our  part  she  dances  on 
heedless  of  perspiration  and  decorum.  Finally  this  lady 
came  to  me  one  day  and,  offering  to  leave  her  husband, 
made  me  a  proposal  of  marriage,  to  the  delight  of  Dr. 
Good  and  Mr.  Kerr.  Shortly  after  this  she  went  crazy. 

We  came  in  contact  with  a  belief  regarding  the  white 
man's  origin  which  is  widely  prevalent,  namely,  that 
their  dead  ancestors  have  gone  over  the  sea  and  have  be- 
come white  men.  We,  therefore,  are  their  ancestors. 
Dr.  Good  and  I  once  entered  a  town  where  the  white  man 
had  never  been  seen.  While  the  people  were  still  stand- 
ing back,  afraid  of  us,  a  woman  looking  intently  in  my 
face  uttered  a  cry  of  recognition,  mistaking  me  for  her 
dead  grandfather,  or  grand-uncle,  or  something  of  that 
sort. 

"  Are  you  not  so-and-so,  of  my  family  ?  "  she  asked. 

Not  being  eager  to  claim  relationship,  I  hastily  assured 
her  that  I  was  not. 

"  Are  you  a  spirit,  or  are  you  flesh  ?  "  she  asked. 

I  told  her  I  was  no  spirit,  but  flesh  and  bones  and  as 
solid  as  herself  j  and  I  invited  her  to  come  and  put  her 
hand  on  me. 

"Will  my  hand  not  go  through?"  she  asked  j  and  I 
assured  her  that  it  would  not. 

Then  coming  towards  me  gradually,  taking  a  short  step, 
then  a  fearful  breath,  then  another  step,  she  at  last  put 
her  hand  upon  my  arm  and  then  not  knowing  what  would 
happen  to  her  she  turned  and  ran  down  the  street.  But 
soon  recovering  herself  she  cried  out :  "He  is  solid  just 
like  us.  My  hand  didn't  go  through."  Then  they  all 
came,  men,  women  and  children,  to  investigate  for  them- 
selves. Some  pinched  me,  some  pushed,  and  some  pulled 
my  hair,  to  the  infinite  amusement  of  Dr.  Good.  I  made 
no  protest  against  the  more  delicate  experiments  of  the 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  13T 

women  and  children ;  but  the  sense  of  touch  on  the  part 
of  the  men  was  so  obtuse  that  I  turned  on  one  of  them 
and  by  the  vigorous  use  of  my  fists  undertook  to  convince 
him  that  my  quality  was  more  substantial  than  spirit, 
while  the  town  shrieked  with  laughter.  The  rest  were 
willing  to  take  that  man' s  word  that  I  was  solid.  ' '  You'  re 
flesh  and  bones,"  they  cried  in  a  chorus. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "I  am  flesh  and  bones  and  fists." 
When  we  first  went  among  them  our  safety  was  in  their 
fetishism  and  this  we  had  counted  upon.  However 
kindly  they  may  have  felt,  yet  to  them  our  poor  bundles 
of  goods  were  fabulous  wealth  ;  and  it  was  our  opinion 
then  and  afterwards  that  greed  would  have  completely 
mastered  them  and  they  would  have  killed  us  for  our 
goods  if  they  had  dared.  Dr.  Good,  as  I  have  said,  had 
lived  for  years  among  the  Fang,  whose  language  is  so 
much  like  the  Bulu  that  he  could  understand  the  Bulu 
from  the  first,  although  he  did  not  always  let  them  know 
this.  In  the  first  Bulu  town  where  we  stayed  over  night 
Dr.  Good  heard  them  discussing  us.  The  younger  men 
were  greatly  excited  and  might  have  proved  dangerous 
but  for  the  counsel  of  the  older  men,  who  are  always  held 
in  high  respect.  These  elders  argued  that  since  we  three 
strangers,  with  a  few  unarmed  followers,  had  left  our  own 
tribe  and  had  come  boldly  among  them  we  must  surely 
have  very  powerful  fetishes — powerful  enough  to  over- 
come theirs  and  inflict  death  on  our  enemies.  Our  very 
goods  which  they  coveted  was  evidence  of  this  ;  for  it  is 
only  by  fetishes  that  people  acquire  riches.  Further 
evidence  was  afforded  by  the  fact  that  we  had  meat  in 
tins  which  our  boys  told  them  had  been  there  for  two 
years  and  it  was  not  rotten.  They  had  seen  it,  and  it 
sinelled  delicious.  But  the  convincing  proof  was  Mr. 
Kerr's  gun,  the  most  beautiful  thing  that  ever  had  been 
seen,  and  which,  according  to  the  report  of  the  boys,  was 


138        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

never  known  to  miss  fire  (which  indeed  was  a  fact  when 
Mr.  Kerr  held  it)  and  everybody  knows  that  this  depends 
entirely  upon  a  man's  fetishes.  These  sage  counsels  pre- 
vailed. And  before  this  belief  in  our  fetishes  and  the  fear 
of  them  was  dissipated  we  had  gained  their  friendship, 
and  were  safe  on  that  basis. 

A  month  after  our  arrival  at  Efulen,  Dr.  Good,  having 
occasion  to  go  to  the  coast,  on  the  way  bought  something 
from  a  native  to  whom  he  gave  a  note  addressed  to  me  in 
which  he  requested  me  to  give  the  bearer  a  red-cap — a 
thing  of  yarn  worth  about  five  cents,  much  appreciated 
by  the  native,  but  more  becoming  to  a  monkey  than  a 
man.  Dr.  Good  explained  to  him,  as  his  eyes  dilated 
with  astonishment,  that  he  would  only  need  to  go  to 
Efulen  and  hand  the  note  to  me  without  saying  a  word, 
whereupon  I  would  fetch  out  a  red-cap  and  give  it  to  him. 
It  was  almost  too  great  a  strain  upon  his  credulity,  but 
he  agreed.  His  entire  town  accompanied  him  to  see  this 
unheard-of  miracle.  It  was  a  walk  of  half  a  day  and  they 
passed  through  several  towns  on  the  way,  in  which  they 
told  what  was  going  to  happen  at  Efulen.  The  popula- 
tion of  each  town,  jerking  the  dinner  off  the  fire,  snatch- 
ing up  the  baby  and  leaving  the  dead  to  bury  their  dead, 
joined  in  the  procession.  A  great  crowd  presented  them- 
selves before  the  house.  They  had  agreed  not  to  invali- 
date the  evidence  of  the  miracle  by  letting  me  know  what 
Dr.  Good  had  said.  The  note  was  the  fetish  that  must 
effect  the  result.  They  stood  with  their  hands  over  their 
mouths  for  fear  the  secret  would  fly  out.  Despite  their 
extraordinary  efforts  to  keep  silence  for  a  minute  they 
were  only  moderately  successful.  The  leader  handed  me 
the  note  :  I  looked  at  it  and  without  a  word  went  into 
the  house  and  immediately  returned  with  the  cap.  They 
vented  their  astonishment  in  a  great  shout.  Then  each 
of  them,  yelling  as  loud  as  possible,  began  to  repeat  the 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  139 

entire  incident  from  the  beginning.  They  must  have 
been  telling  the  story  to  their  dead  ancestors  in  Europe 
and  America,  if  one  might  judge  by  their  evident  distance, 
and  by  the  fact  that  no  one  seemed  to  expect  anybody  else 
to  listen  to  him.  This  incident  increased  our  prestige. 

In  a  certain  trading-house  a  similar  incident  once  oc- 
curred. Anative  presented  a  note  to  the  trader  who  gave 
him  a  knife.  Then  all  the  young  enterprising  natives 
appropriated  paper  wherever  they  could  find  it,  and  cut- 
ting it  into  similar  pieces  presented  it  to  the  trader  sup- 
posing that  he  would  automatically  produce  a  knife  and 
give  it  to  them  ;  but  when  they  witnessed  his  dumb  igno- 
rance they  concluded  that  there  were  serious  limitations  to 
the  white  man's  magic. 

I  have  said  that  they  regarded  our  meagre  stock  of 
goods  as  fabulous  wealth.  They  regarded  us  as  we  might 
regard  a  multi-millionare.  And,  strange  enough,  we 
gradually  fell  into  their  way  of  thinking,  and  regarded 
their  attitude  as  consonant  with  the  facts.  And  why  not  I 
For,  to  be  rich  is  to  have  a  little  more  than  your  neigh- 
bours, and  to  be  poor  is  to  have  less.  There  is  no  sense 
of  privation  in  being  compelled  to  do  without  those 
things  which  nobody  else  has  ;  but  however  much  we  may 
have,  we  feel  the  pinch  of  poverty  when  there  are  addi- 
tional comforts  and  enjoyments  immediately  around  us 
which  we  cannot  procure.  Our  privations  were  many 
and  great,  but  they  were  for  the  most  part  inevitable. 
After  the  first  few  months  we  had  the  best  procurable  in 
our  situation,  and  far  more  than  those  around  us.  So, 
every  man  in  such  a  place  will  learn  that  wealth,  after 
all,  is  a  sentiment  more  than  a  condition,  a  feeling  rather 
than  a  fact.  But  the  return  to  civilization  is  like  a  sud- 
den reversal  of  fortune,  and  in  dire  contrast  a  man  ex- 
periences a  very  painful  and  oppressive  sense  of  poverty 
when  confronted  with  wealth  so  far  beyond  his  own. 


140        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

We  gave  out  various  goods  in  pay  to  workmen  en- 
gaged upon  our  premises.  We  bought  food  for  the  work- 
men and  some  for  ourselves.  The  staple  article  of  ex- 
change was  salt :  one  might  almost  call  it  the  currency. 
There  is  so  little  of  it  that  there  is  a  chronic  hunger  for 
it.  Children  like  it  better  than  sugar.  A  teaspoonful  of 
salt  is  the  price  of  an  egg.  We  also  gave  in  exchange 
beads,  shirt-buttons,  brass  rods,  red-caps,  knives,  gun- 
flints,  and  later  in  the  year  we  began  to  sell  a  little 
cloth.  We  bought  bananas,  plantains,  cassava  (that 
which  Stanley  calls  "  manioc,"  which  is  their  principal 
food)  and  building-material.  All  exchange  is  by  barter, 
and  it  is  a  very  tedious  and  trying  process,  a  long  palaver 
being  regarded  as  almost  essential  to  propriety  even  in 
the  purchase  of  the  smallest  article.  In  trading  among 
themselves  the  man  who  can  talk  longest  and  loudest 
usually  gets  the  best  of  the  bargain.  The  maintaining  of 
a  fixed  price  is  new  to  the  African  and  is  hateful  to  him, 
even  if  the  price  be  good,  for  it  tends  to  deprive  him  of 
the  palaver,  which  is  the  joy  of  his  life.  He  makes  the 
best  of  the  fixed  price  however  and  even  discovers  that  it 
still  has  some  dramatic  and  histrionic  possibilities.  He 
lays  down  his  bamboo,  or  his  thatch,  before  me,  telling 
me  in  a  neighbourly  manner  how  far  he  has  had  to  go  for 
it  and  how  exceedingly  scarce  it  is  becoming,  how  un- 
usually good  this  particular  material  is  and  what  lavish 
offers  he  received  for  it  along  the  way,  and  how  friendship 
for  the  white  man  prevailed  over  baser  considerations. 
For,  what  were  he  and  his  people  before  the  white  man 
came  ?  But  now,  as  for  himself,  he  has  left  behind  all  his 
vices,  and  that  very  morning  has  decided  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. 

I  interrupt  this  fine  flow  of  sentiment  by  asking  him 
what  he  wants  in  exchange  for  his  thatch.  He  thinks  he 
will  take  a  little  salt.  I  measure  out  with  a  spoon  the 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  141 

exact  amount — winch  he  knew  before  he  left  his  town. 
The  dramatic  moment  is  when  I  put  away  the  spoon.  He 
glances  from  the  salt  to  myself  several  times  with  a  fine 
simulation  of  disappointment  and  contempt,  calculated 
to  reduce  me  to  pulp.  He  is  no  child  in  his  art,  but 
such  an  adept  that  my  moral  fortitude  almost  surrenders 
before  that  look.  I  seek  to  relieve  the  strain  by  saying 
with  affected  carelessness  :  "  That's  all.  Take  your  salt 
and  get  out." 

The  reply  to  this  delicate  suggestion  is  a  prolonged 
yell  of  many  mingled  emotions  :  and  then  he  grabs, — not 
the  salt,  but  his  thatch  and  starts  down  the  hill  cursing 
the  white  man.  I  have  not  so  much  affronted  his  judg- 
ment as  I  have  wounded  his  feelings,  and  perhaps  have 
put  a  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of  his  salvation.  He 
thinks  better  of  it,  however,  and  comes  back,  takes  the 
salt  and  goes  away  blessing  me. 

It  was  hard  to  procure  eggs.  The  natives  do  not  eat 
eggs  but  always  set  them.  At  first  they  asked  the  price 
of  a  chicken  for  an  egg,  because,  they  said,  the  egg 
would  become  a  chicken,  with  proper  treatment.  The 
time  element  is  always  eliminated  in  every  consideration. 
But  most  of  the  eggs  that  they  brought  us  would  never 
have  become  chickens  under  any  circumstances  ;  and  this 
they  knew,  for  they  had  given  them  a  thorough  trial. 
When  I  pronounce  an  egg  to  be  bad  a  man  always  wants 
it  back  ;  for  he  or  his  friend  will  try  to  sell  it  to  me  again, 
watching  an  opportunity  when  I  am  very  busy  and  have 
not  time  to  examine  it  closely.  I  have  probably  refused 
the  same  egg  half  a  dozen  times  in  one  morning,  and  then 
perhaps  have  bought  it,  and  the  successful  vender  has 
amused  the  people  of  his  town  by  relating  the  transaction 
at  my  expense. 

The  women  bring  their  garden  produce  in  heavy  loads 
carried  on  their  backs  in  large  baskets.  I  stand  on  the 


142        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

porch  as  I  buy  and  they  on  the  ground,  their  produce 
lying  on  the  porch  at  my  feet.  They  always  rise  very 
early,  and  they  usually  reach  the  hill  about  daylight. 
We  cannot  buy  more  than  half  of  the  food  they  bring  ;  so 
there  is  a  noisy  and  animated  scramble  for  first  place. 
They  are  there  before  we  are  up  in  the  morning  and  they 
wait  in  a  shed  occupied  by  our  men  a  little  way  down  the 
hill  and  in  front  of  our  house.  There  they  indulge  in 
chatter  and  laughter,  and  one  might  think  they  had  for- 
gotten their  errand.  But  the  moment  I  open  the  door 
and  step  outside  (for  it  fell  to  me  to  do  the  buying)  every 
woman,  with  a  yell,  snatches  her  basket  and  pitches  it  on 
her  back,  or  perhaps  comes  dragging  it  along  the  ground, 
thinking  in  this  way  to  gain  a  moment  over  her  sisters, 
and  pushing  and  pulling  each  other,  some  of  them  laugh- 
ing, more  of  them  cursing,  and  all  of  them  yelling,  the 
whole  fanfare  sweeps  up  to  the  door.  Not  having  been 
accustomed  to  rise  so  early,  my  sense  of  humour  is  still 
dormant  at  that  hour  ;  life  is  always  a  serious  matter  to 
me  and  a  doubtful  boon  until  after  breakfast.  I  yawn, 
and  yawn  again,  and  heave  a  weary  sigh,  as  I  reflect  that 
the  clamorous  noise  which  has  thus  ushered  in  the  day 
will  continue  through  the  long  hours  until  its  close. 

Soon  after  our  arrival  at  Efulen  Dr.  Good  and  I  visited 
the  town  of  an  old  chief  of  some  fame,  named  Abesula. 
Abesula's  claim  to  greatness  was  based  upon  the  posses- 
sion of  thirty-five  wives  and  any  man  who  could  endure 
life  with  thirty -five  African  wives  must  be  made  of  un- 
common stuff.  He  was  old  and  most  of  them  were  young 
and  unruly,  and  each  one  seemed  disposed  to  do  her  full 
duty  in  reconciling  him  to  death  by  making  his  present 
life  intolerable.  As  we  entered  the  town  an  old  woman 
who  knew  Dr.  Good  and  was  very  glad  to  see  him  came 
forward  to  salute  him,  calling  him  his  usual  name,  Ngoot. 
She  was  covered  thick  with  redwood  powder,  like  red 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  143 

oxide,  from  head  to  feet,  and  he  was  dressed  in  light-col- 
oured clothes  and  was  quite  trim,  for  we  had  travelled  by 
a  good  road.  In  a  salutation  of  * l  linked  sweetness  long 
drawn  out" — "Ay!  Ngoo-t,  ETgoo-t,  Ngoo-t,"  she  threw 
her  arms  around  him  and  embraced  him  affectionately, 
leaving  him  covered  with  redwood  powder.  Other 
women,  evidently  thinking  that  this  was  the  proper  way 
to  receive  a  white  man,  followed  her  example.  Now, 
one  of  Dr.  Good's  peculiarities  was  an  insuperable  aver- 
sion to  effusions  of  emotion.  But  he  always  considered 
the  effect  of  his  actions  upon  the  mind  or  the  feelings  of 
the  natives  ;  so  he  submitted  to  this  tender  ceremony,  but 
he  looked  as  miserable  as  ever  Abesula  did  with  his 
thirty-five  wives  all  calling  him  names  at  once.  Then 
the  old  woman,  not  wishing  to  show  partiality,  ap- 
proached me  with  an  amiable,  toothless  smile  and  all  the 
redwood  that  was  not  on  Dr.  Good's  clothes  ;  but  regard- 
less of  consequences  I  took  to  my  heels  and  bestowed  my- 
self at  a  safe  distance  down  the  street,  feeling  that  I  had 
made  sacrifices  enough  for  the  black  race  to  be  morally 
excusable  for  declining  this  unsavoury  embrace. 

In  the  evening  we  sang  several  hymns  to  draw  the 
people  together.  They  all  came  and  Abesula  sat  in  the 
midst.  Then  Dr.  Good  preached  to  them,  and  some  paid 
close  attention.  But  after  a  while  Abesula,  interrupting, 
said:  "  Ngoot,  won't  you  soon  be  through  preaching  I 
For  I  wish  that  you  two  white  men  would  sing  and  dance 
for  the  people  ;  I  don't  care  for  singing  without  dancing, 
and  I  don't  like  preaching  at  all."  But  we  did  not  re- 
sort to  this  sensational  method  of  holding  a  congregation. 

That  same  evening  a  score  of  Abesula' s  wives  engaged 
in  a  general  quarrel  with  each  other.  An  African  family 
has  no  skeletons  in  the  closet.  They  all  hang  outside  the 
front  door.  The  quarrel  began  with  two  of  them,  who, 
earlier  in  the  evening,  sat  each  within  the  door  of  her 


144        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

own  house,  ou  opposite  sides  of  the  street,  reviling  each 
other  in  language  of  loathsome  indecency,  until  at  last, 
when  their  intellectual  resources  of  warfare  were  ex- 
hausted, the  other  women  told  them  to  come  out  into  the 
street  and  fight  it  out.  Whereupon  the  two  women  came 
out  into  the  street  and  throwing  off  even  their  scant  ap- 
parel of  leaves,  began  to  fight.  To  our  surprise  they  did 
not  scratch  nor  pull  each  other's  hair,  as  we  had  heard 
that  women  do  when  they  fight.  It  was  more  like  wrest- 
ling, although  blows  were  delivered  according  to  oppor- 
tunity. They  were  fairly  matched  ;  but  at  last  one  was 
thrown  to  the  ground,  the  other  falling  on  top,  and  then 
clasping  each  other  and  fighting  they  rolled  over  and 
over  in  the  street.  When  one  of  them  was  beaten  the 
other  women  began  to  take  sides  and  a  large  number  be- 
came involved.  Then  the  indiscreet  Abesula  interfered 
and  they  all  joined  together  against  him.  To  say  that 
this  large  and  unhappy  family  washed  the  dirty  linen  of 
their  domestic  infelicity  in  the  street  is  putting  it  too 
mildly.  The  linen  was  foul  and  fit  only  for  the  fire.  The 
women  sought  to  shame  the  old  savage  out  of  countenance 
by  the  revelation  of  filthy  secrets — but  there  are  no  secrets 
in  Africa.  Abesula  replied  with  a  shocking  history  of 
their  immoralities  which  I  fear  was  too  true.  He  raged 
like  an  infuriated  beast.  He  asked  for  a  stick.  Some 
one  brought  him  one  about  ten  feet  long.  As  he  talked 
he  beat  the  ground  with  the  stick  and  when  it  broke  in 
his  hands  he  called  for  another.  He  cursed  them  and 
threatened  them  with  the  hostility  of  supernatural  powers 
by  which  they  would  die  various  sudden  deaths  in  sur- 
prising forms,  and  suffer  frightful  penalties  in  another 
world.  All  this  while  he  was  pounding  the  ground,  in 
which  performance  it  was  supposed  that  his  wives  were 
beaten  by  proxy.  It  was  a  very  forcible  way  of  express- 
ing his  opinion  of  them,  and  of  showing  them  what  their 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  145 

conduct  deserved,  while  it  was  safer  for  himself  and  more 
conducive  to  good  health  and  a  long  life,  than  a  personal 
attack  upon  them,  seeing  that  it  was  one  against  thirty-five. 
But  finding  at  length  that  this  bloodless  flogging  even 
when  accompanied  with  awful  language  produced  no 
other  result  than  self-exhaustion  and  violent  perspiration, 
he  resolved  to  kill  himself  without  actually  dying— a 
simple  paradox  to  the  African  mind.  He  brought  out  of 
his  house  a  long  knife  and  a  lighted  torch,  and  carefully 
arranging  a  seat  in  the  middle  of  the  street  where  all 
could  witness  the  shedding  of  his  blood,  he  sharpened 
the  knife,  made  his  last  speech,  in  which  he  told  his 
wives  how  he  would  haunt  them  after  death,  then  raised 
the  knife  above  him,  threw  back  his  head,  and  pointed  the 
knife  towards  his  breast.  This  tragical  performance  re- 
quires that  at  this  interesting  moment  some  one,  preferably 
a  wife,  should  rush  towards  him  in  terrible  alarm  and  ex- 
citement and  wrench  the  knife  from  his  hand  just  in  time 
to  save  his  life.  This  touching  evidence  of  regard  is  a 
first  measure  of  reconciliation  and  is  usually  followed  by 
a  truce  of  hostilities.  But  Abesula  had  made  life  so  bit- 
ter for  these  women  that  their  contempt  was  unbounded 
and  they  desired  no  armistice.  Not  one  of  them  moved 
to  save  his  life.  He  still  held  the  knife  above  him,  as  if 
to  say:  "Is  no  one  going  to  interfere  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  you  would  allow  a  great  man  like  me  to  take  his 
own  life  when  you  could  so  easily  prevent  it  ?  At  least 
think  of  the  trouble  it  will  entail,  the  grave-digging,  the 
burial,  a  month  of  mourning,  and  perhaps  charges  of 
witchcraft."  Still  no  one  moved.  Abesula  suddenly  re- 
solved to  sharpen  his  knife  again  so  as  to  make  death 
quite  certain.  This  being  done  he  again  raised  it  and 
pointed  it  towards  his  heart.  A  native  man  said  to 
Dr.  Good  :  ' '  Stop  him !  white  man,  stop  him  !  Take 
the  knife  from  him  !  "  And  it  may  be  that  the  women 


146        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

had  been  expecting  a  white  man  to  perform  this  obliging 
duty.  But  neither  of  us  moved.  At  last  the  knife  de- 
scended, and  with  such  terrible  force  that  it  would  have 
been  driven  into  his  heart  and  clean  through  his  back  if 
it  had  not  been  that  his  arm  was  trembling  with  excessive 
determination,  and  the  descending  knife,  missing  aim, 
struck  the  ground,  penetrating  nearly  to  the  hilt.  Poor 
Abesula,  inconsolable  at  finding  himself  still  alive,  and 
feeling  that  his  dignity,  if  not  his  life,  was  gone  forever, 
rose  from  the  ground  and  sneaked  away.  But  he  cast  a 
baleful  look  backward,  as  if  to  say,  "For  two  beads  I'd 
destroy  this  world  and  make  another  where  great  men 
could  be  appreciated.  As  for  you  black  creatures,  you 
don't  know  a  great  man  when  you  see  him." 

Later  that  night  when  all  had  retired  to  sleep,  Dr. 
Good  and  I  were  still  discussing  polygamy,  that  some 
white  people  assert  is  right  and  necessary  for  Africa. 

Mr.  E.  D.  Morel  points  to  the  triumphs  of  Moham- 
medanism in  Africa  as  a  proof  of  its  better  adaptation  to 
the  moral  and  material  welfare  of  the  people  than  Chris- 
tianity, attributing  its  success  to  its  allowance  of 
polygamy.  But  Mr.  MorePs  friend,  Sir  Harry  Johnston, 
than  whom  perhaps  no  man  living  knows  more  about 
Central  Africa  and  its  people,  accounts  for  the  rapid 
spread  of  Mohammedanism  in  a  very  simple  and  obvious 
manner,  when  he  says  :  i  i  Mohammedanism,  as  taught 
to  the  negro,  demands  no  sacrifice  of  his  bodily  lusts." 
Mohammedanism  does  improve  the  African — there  is 
nothing  gained  by  denying  it.  But,  at  best,  it  only 
" moves  the  masses  to  a  cleaner  stye,"  which,  though 
cleaner,  is  still  a  * '  stye ' ' ;  while  the  aim  of  Christianity 
is  a  household,  in  which  the  law  is  love,  not  lust.  It  is 
natural  that  it  should  take  the  negro  longer  to  learn  this 
lesson  and  that  he  should  be  slow  in  making  the  sacrifices 
that  it  demands. 


THE  BUSH  PEOPLE  147 

In  the  morning  Abesula  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all 
about  the  palaver,  as  if  it  were  a  very  ordinary  occur- 
rence, as  I  presume  it  really  was.  We  rewarded  him  for 
the  house  that  we  had  occupied  by  a  gift  of  a  red-cap 
(cost,  five  cents),  the  remains  of  our  tallow  candle  and 
six  lumps  of  white  sugar. 


VIII 

AFTER  A  YEAR 

MY  progress  in  acquiring  the  language  was 
greatly  retarded  by  my  long  sickness,  and  by 
more  than  one  prolonged  stay  at  the  coast. 
But  the  language  is  easy.  At  the  end  of  a  year  I  was 
conducting  Sabbath  services  in  Dr.  Good's  absence  and 
preaching  in  a  stammering  way.  Mr.  Kerr  was  speaking 
the  language  much  better  than  I  j  and  Dr.  Good  had 
actually  translated  the  Gospels,  though  it  was  a  tentative 
translation  that  he  knew  would  soon  need  revision.  "We 
were  also  penetrating  a  little  beneath  the  surface  of  native 
life,  seeing  with  other  eyes  and  beginning  to  realize  its 
degradation  and  to  feel  deeply  its  misery  and  sadness. 

When  we  three  white  men,  on  our  way  to  Efulen,  en- 
tered the  first  Biilu  town,  the  old  chief  asked  Dr.  Good 
whether  we  were  brothers.  When  Dr.  Good  replied  that 
we  were  not,  the  old  man,  turning  slowly  towards  his 
people,  with  an  incredulous  laugh  exclaimed  :  "  What  a 
lie!"  It  seemed  impossible  that  three  men  who  were 
not  brothers  could  travel  together  in  the  forest  and  not 
kill  each  other. 

One  day  I  heard  a  sudden  outcry  of  great  alarm  from  a 
village  at  the  foot  of  our  hill.  Several  men  of  that  village 
were  at  our  station  at  the  time,  and  with  a  shout  they 
started  for  home.  I  quickly  followed  them  and  saw  as  I 
entered  the  village  that  a  tragedy  had  occurred.  I  after- 
wards learned  that  four  of  their  prominent  men  had  been 
shot.  They  were  hunting  in  the  forest  and  not  suspecting 

148 


AFTER  A  YEAR  149 

danger,  when  another  party,  who  were  really  friendly, 
mistook  them  for  enemies  in  the  dark  forest,  and  shot  all 
four.  This  is  a  kind  of  mistake  that  occurs  frequently. 
The  native  would  rather  kill  ten  friends  than  let  one 
enemy  escape ;  so  they  often  kill  first  and  investigate 
afterwards.  The  village  was  very  small  and  the  loss  of 
four  stalwart  men  left  them  insufficiently  protected  against 
their  enemies.  This  day  the  four  bodies  had  been  found 
in  the  forest  and  the  news  had  just  reached  the  village. 
Instantly,  all  the  wives  of  those  men  stripped  off  their 
scant  clothing  of  leaves,  smeared  their  bodies  with  clay 
and  running  into  the  garden  of  bananas  threw  themselves 
on  the  ground  tearing  their  hair  and  screaming,  while  the 
other  women  of  the  village  gathered  around  and  tried  to 
comfort  them.  There  was  more  than  one  reason  for  this 
demonstration.  In  part  it  was  probably  genuine  grief  j 
but  there  was  also  a  strong  element  of  fear,  the  fear  of 
every  wife  whose  husband  dies  from  any  cause  whatso- 
ever, that  she  will  be  charged  with  having  bewitched  him 
and  suffer  the  penalty  of  death,  perhaps  by  being  buried 
alive  with  the  dead  body  of  her  husband.  For  in  this 
instance  of  the  four  men,  it  would  be  said,  that  they  wore 
upon  their  necks  certain  fetishes  that  would  have  made 
them  invisible  to  any  one  attempting  to  do  them  harm, 
and  that  evidently  the  spell  of  witchcraft  had  broken  the 
power  of  the  fetish.  The  fact  that  a  man's  wife,  or  wives, 
are  the  first  to  be  charged  with  his  death,  implying  that 
they  would  be  more  likely  than  others  to  desire  it,  throws 
a  lurid  light  upon  their  social  relations  and  incidentally 
upon  polygamy.  The  African  wife  everywhere  is  an 
artist  in  the  use  of  poison. 

In  that  entire  year  at  Efulen  I  do  not  remember  that 
there  was  one  natural  death,  though  we  never  ceased  to 
hear  their  mourning  for  the  dead.  In  those  tribes  where 
no  degree  of  civilization  is  yet  established  it  is  esti- 


150        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

mated  that  nineteen  out  of  twenty  Africans  die  by  vio- 
lence. And  when  one  comes  to  know  the  people  indi- 
vidually and  by  name,  instead  of  by  impersonal  figures, 
one  realizes  something  of  the  enormity  of  wrong  and 
suffering  covered  by  this  record. 

One  of  the  friendliest  of  the  natives  who  had  been 
coming  to  see  us  almost  every  day,  a  young  man  of  splen- 
did physique,  was  dragged  up  the  hill  to  our  door,  un- 
conscious, a  bullet  from  an  enemy's  gun  having  pene- 
trated his  forehead,  breaking  the  skull  and  laying  bare 
the  brain.  With  their  coarse  knives  they  had  tried  to 
dig  the  pieces  of  broken  bone  out  of  the  wound.  That 
war  began  with  the  stealing  of  a  woman,  or  rather  her 
elopement  with  a  man  of  another  town.  The  reason  she 
gave  was  that  her  husband  was  so  homely  she  could  not 
live  with  him.  The  man  probably  had  no  wife  and  had 
no  possible  means  of  procuring  the  very  large  dowry  neces- 
sary for  her  purchase.  The  town  from  which  the  woman 
was  stolen,  according  to  native  custom,  at  the  very  first 
opportunity  killed  a  person  belonging  to  the  town  to 
which  the  woman  was  taken.  Then  the  other  town  killed 
several  of  their  people.  During  this  war  the  people  of 
the  more  distant  town  could  not  reach  Efulen,  and  those 
of  the  nearer  town  brought  their  guns  when  they  attended 
our  service  on  Sunday  and  sat  with  them  in  their  hands, 
ready  for  instant  action.  The  war  between  the  two  towns 
continued  until  twelve  persons  had  been  killed,  eight  on 
one  side  and  four  on  the  other.  Then  another  woman 
was  stolen,  and  another  war  began  and  this  first  one  was 
settled  in  a  great  palaver,  which  was  called  in  a  neutral 
town,  the  people  of  the  two  opposing  towns  being  gath- 
ered together  and  sitting  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street. 
After  endless  oratory,  some  of  it  weak  enough  and  some 
of  it  eloquent,  it  was  agreed  that  one  side,  having  killed 
four  more  than  the  enemy,  should  pay  over  to  them  four 


AFTER  A  YEAR  151 

women,  and  the  town  to  which  the  men  belonged  who  had 
first  stolen  the  woman  should  collectively  pay  a  proper 
dowry.  Having  thus  agreed  they  returned  to  their  re- 
spective towns  and  it  remained  only  to  name  the  four 
women  who  should  be  given  over  to  the  other  town. 
Dr.  Good  and  I  were  present  when  the  old  chief,  after 
taking  counsel  with  the  elders,  named  the  four  women. 
The  whole  town  was  assembled.  As  he  pronounced  each 
name  there  was  a  shriek  and  a  woman  fled  to  the  bush  ; 
but  a  number  of  men  knowing  the  names  beforehand, 
caught  her,  dragged  her  back  into  the  street,  while  she 
struggled  and  threw  herself  on  the  ground  as  if  she  were 
trying  to  kill  herself.  But  it  was  useless.  They  bound 
them  with  bush-rope  and  they  were  taken  away.  Upon 
reaching  the  other  town,  they  would  become  the  wives  of 
the  chief,  or  others  upon  whom  he  might  magnanimously 
bestow  them.  My  .impression  is  that  at  first  they  are 
usually  regarded  with  ill-will.  Sometimes,  when  a 
woman  seems  not  to  be  reconciled  to  her  lot,  her  feet  are 
put  in  stocks  until  she  is  brought  into  subjection ;  but  in 
time  she  submits  to  the  inevitable  and  makes  the  best  of 
it.  I  have  known  instances  among  the  Fang  where  such 
women  were  regarded  as  slaves. 

Yet  in  all  their  degradation  there  was  still  something 
childlike  about  them.  We  found  them  always  interesting 
and  even  lovable  ;  and  though  so  far  below  our  own  moral 
level,  our  sympathy  was  not  repelled  by  their  degrada- 
tion. One  upon  the  mountain  top  may  seem  far  above 
his  fellows  ;  but,  when  he  looks  up,  the  infinite  stars  are 
equally  above  them  all.  The  higher  our  ideals  the  more 
lowly  our  hearts,  the  more  sane  and  broad  our  sympa- 
thies. 

It  ought  not  to  be  expected  that  we  would  accomplish 
any  individual  or  social  transformation  in  a  brief  year. 
Only  with  length  of  time  can  even  a  divine  religion,  so 


152        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

long  as  it  leaves  men  free,  transform  the  customs  of  ages, 
and  in  minds  knowing  only  animal  desires,  create  new 
and  noble  ideals.  Without  doubt  the  new  truth  that  we 
taught  had  become  more  intelligible  and  above  all,  they 
grasped  its  practical  import.  We  not  only  preached  but 
practiced  justice,  honesty,  truthfulness,  and  kindness  (to 
their  amazement),  and  they  interpreted  our  creed  by  our 
practice.  For  they  themselves  were  preachers  of  right- 
eousness before  they  ever  heard  of  the  white  man  j  but  it 
was  in  doing  that  they  lacked.  We  felt  at  the  end  of  the 
year  that  they  understood  us,  and  recognized  our  moral 
principles  as  right :  and  this  was  a  great  advance. 

But  the  actual  reforms  among  them  were  for  the  most 
part  merely  superficial  and  scarcely  moral.  Some  of 
them  developed  a  passion  for  clothes,  which  they  re- 
garded as  mere  ornamentation.  It  is  sometimes  said  that 
we  missionaries  preach  a  "  Gospel  of  cloth  "  mistaking 
clothes  for  morality.  And  a  superficial  observer  at 
Efulen  would  probably  have  supposed  that  the  ludicrous 
effort  of  the  people  to  clothe  themselves  was  the  result  of 
our  teaching  and  advice.  But  it  was  due  only  to  their 
ready  habit  of  imitation  ;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  we  were 
disposed  to  discourage  it.  For  one  of  the  first  lessons 
that  the  white  man  learns  in  Africa  is  that  clothes  and 
morality  are  not  so  nearly  related  as  he  had  supposed. 
It  is  preferable  in  this  as  in  everything  else  that  knowl- 
edge should  precede  practice  :  otherwise,  the  results  will 
be  at  least  grotesque  and  often  injurious  to  health.  One 
man  is  dressed  in  the  crown  or  the  brim  of  a  hat ;  another 
wears  a  pair  of  cast-off  shoes,  or  perhaps  one  shoe,  while 
his  friend  wears  the  other  ;  and  even  when  they  are  new 
he  is  indifferent  about  shoe-strings.  One  man  will  wear 
as  his  entire  outfit  a  ragged  coat  of  inhuman  proportions  ; 
another  wears  a  pair  of  trousers  that  have  outworn  all  the 
buttons,  while  his  whole  time  and  attention  are  occupied 


AFTER  A  YEAR  153 

iu  keeping  them  on,  and  with  indifferent  success.  Such 
rags  of  clothing  turn  these  fine  and  manly-looking  fellows 
into  low-down  rowdies  or  even  into  the  semblance  of  apes. 
Nor  do  they  always  know  the  gender  of  the  garments 
shown  them  in  the  trading-houses,  and  not  all  the  traders 
will  assist  their  taste.  One  may  sometimes  see  a  tall 
chief  dressed  in  a  pink  or  blue  Mother  Hubbard.  At  the 
coast  I  once  saw  a  stalwart  bushman,  who  had  just  dis- 
posed of  an  ivory,  "  dressed  to  kill  "  in  a  lady's  under- 
garment, fresh  from  the  box,  snow-white  and  trimmed 
with  delicate  embroidery.  He  was  so  proud  as  he 
strutted  along  that  he  could  scarcely  speak. 

But  clothes,  until  they  have  learned  to  take  proper  care 
of  them,  are  often  injurious  to  their  health.  They  will 
keep  these  garments  on  night  and  day,  wet  or  dry,  and 
may  not  take  them  off  till  they  fall  off.  It  is  worse  with 
shoes.  The  feet  of  the  native  are  shod  with  natural  sole- 
leather  ;  and  if  they  were  not,  the  bush-paths  would  be 
impassable  for  him.  But  he  wears  his  shoes  through 
mud  and  water,  and  keeps  them  on  at  night.  The  result 
is  that  they  make  his  feet  tender,  besides  injuring  his 
health. 

Shortly  after  we  went  to  Efulen,  such  was  the  passion 
for  clothes  that  if  one  should  throw  away  an  old  pair  of 
socks  instead  of  burning  them,  no  matter  where  they 
might  be  thrown,  one  might  count  on  it  that  somebody, 
probably  a  boy,  would  soon  appear  in  the  yard  wearing 
those  socks,  sometimes  on  his  hands  instead  of  his  feet, 
thinking  that  they  would  last  longer.  One  day  when  I 
decided  that  a  certain  pair  of  shoes  were  no  longer  fit  to 
wear,  I  took  them  out  into  the  yard  and  placing  them  on 
a  block,  took  an  axe,  and  proceeded  to  chop  them  into 
small  pieces.  All  the  natives  in  the  yard,  visitors  and 
workmen,  came  running  to  me  and  loudly  begged  for  the 
shoes  with  outstretched  hands.  But  oblivious  to  their 


154        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

clamorous  entreaties,  I  kept  swinging  the  axe  and  com- 
pelling them  to  stand  back.  When  I  had  finished  I 
asked  them  what  they  wanted,  explaining  that  I  could 
not  swing  an  axe  and  listen  to  them  at  the  same  time,  es- 
pecially when  they  were  all  talking  at  once.  They  turned 
away  with  looks  of  disgust. 

A  certain  chief  at  Efulen  succeeded  in  procuring  a  suit 
of  bright  blue  denim.  The  following  Sunday  the  family 
came  to  our  service  with  the  suit  divided  between  them, 
the  women  having  divested  themselves  of  the  native  attire. 
The  old  man  wore  the  coat,  his  wife  followed  with  the 
trousers,  and  a  grown  daughter  brought  up  the  rear  with 
the  vest.  Of  course  they  came  late,  and  walked  to  a 
front  seat.  The  missionaries  were  supposed  to  maintain 
their  gravity.  I  was  not  there  myself  and  am  indebted  to 
Mr.  Kerr  for  the  incident. 

My  visits  to  the  coast  were  like  coming  back  to  civili- 
zation ;  such  was  the  contrast  of  Batanga  and  Efulen. 
And,  besides,  there  was  a  white  child  at  the  coast,  little 
Frances,  a  dear  little  girl  about  a  year  old,  whom  I 
carried  in  my  arms  much  of  the  time  that  I  was  there. 
For  I  have  already  told  how  one  longs  for  the  sight  of  a 
white  child.  During  those  visits  to  the  coast  I  often 
preached  in  the  Batanga  Church  and  I  became  well  ac- 
quainted with  that  congregation.  By  their  progress  of  a 
few  years  and  by  the  Christian  character  of  many  indi- 
viduals known  to  me,  I  was  accustomed  to  measure  the 
possibilities  of  the  Bulu  and  the  prospect  of  our  work. 

The  first  Sunday  after  my  arrival  in  Africa  I  preached 
in  the  church  at  Batanga.  I  had  carefully  packed  away 
every  article  of  better  clothing,  including  all  starched 
linen,  and  all  my  shirts,  and  was  wearing  a  suit  which  I 
had  purchased  at  a  trading-house  for  two  dollars.  I  have 
reason  to  remember  this  from  what  Dr.  Good  said  after- 
wards. He  told  me  that  when  I  landed  from  the  steamer 


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AFTER  A  YEAR  155 

he  surveyed  me  with  eager  curiosity,  and  that  I  had 
somehow  impressed  him  with  a  doubt  as  to  whether  I 
would  be  able  to  adapt  myself  to  our  bush-life.  But 
when  he  entered  the  Batanga  Church  the  following  Sun- 
day and  saw  me  standing  in  the  pulpit  divested  of  collar, 
cuffs  and  shirt,  and  dressed  in  a  suit  that  everybody 
knew  had  cost  exactly  two  dollars,  doubt  was  banished, 
and  to  a  fellow  missionary  he  expressed  his  changed  mind 
in  the  emphatic  words:  "He'll  do."  But  surely  in 
Africa-  and  everywhere  else  our  dress  should  be  that 
which  is  proper  to  our  work  and  our  surroundings. 

The  Batanga  Church  had  a  membership  of  four  hun- 
dred, and  the  attendance  was  very  large.  The  present 
edifice  is  a  hideous  and  expensive  structure  of  foreign 
material,  altogether  inappropriate  to  native  conditions 
and  a  disfigurement  in  the  landscape.  But  the  old 
church  of  those  days,  while  not  sufficient  in  size,  was  ad- 
mirable in  other  respects  and  picturesque — elevated  on 
posts  and  with  a  board  floor,  bamboo  walls,  and  roof  of 
palm  thatch.  Along  the  base  of  the  walls,  at  regular  in- 
tervals, were  large  triangular  openings  for  ventilation. 
But  the  people  being  accustomed  to  leave  all  matters  of 
ventilation  and  sanitation  to  providence,  evidently  sup- 
posed that  these  openings  were  intended  for  their  accomr 
modation  in  expectorating.  For  the  habit  of  expectora- 
tion is  fixed  and  constant,  and  is  as  characteristic  of 
Africa  as  noise.  One  does  not  object  to  it  so  much  among 
bush  people,  who  usually  assemble  outside,  and  in  whose 
houses  there  are  only  ground  floors.  But  when  they  be- 
gin to  be  civilized  it  is  more  noticeable  and  becomes  of- 
fensive. The  majority  of  the  Batanga  people,  with  the 
native  instinct  of  good  manners,  were  just  sufficiently 
civilized  to  know  that  it  is  bad  form  to  spit  on  the  floor, 
but  not  sufficiently  civilized  to  break  off  the  habit  en- 
tirely. During  the  service  they  continually  expectorated 


156        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

through  the  openings  in  the  walls,  and  especially  the 
women.  It  seemed  that  the  more  interested  they  became 
in  the  sermon  the  more  fluently  they  expectorated.  My 
attention  was  arrested  and  almost  diverted  by  the  uncer- 
tainty and  suspense  whenever  I  saw  an  old  woman  on  the 
inside  end  of  a  pew,  lean  forward,  twist  her  head  to  one 
side,  take  deliberate  aim,  and  fire  past  six  persons.  She 
never  missed  the  hole — unless  some  one  of  those  between 
her  and  the  wall  should  happen  to  move  or  lean  forward 
just  at  the  wrong  moment,  which  of  course  was  not  her 
fault.  The  appearance  which  this  habit  presented  out- 
side the  church  always  recalled  what  Dickens  said  of  this 
same  habit  in  America — that  the  appearance  outside  the 
windows  of  a  railway  coach  was  as  if  some  one  inside  were 
ripping  open  a  feather  tick. 

The  men  and  women  sit  on  different  sides  of  the  church 
and  I  believe  that  in  their  stage  of  civilization  it  is  best 
that  they  should  thus  be  separated,  though  sometimes  it 
is  attended  with  inconvenience.  For  instance,  a  father 
may  have  charge  of  a  baby  that  wants  its  mother  ;  and  if 
so  it  may  be  passed  from  one  to  another  across  the  entire 
church,  as  I  have  seen,  dangling  by  one  little  arm,  and 
with  no  covering  but  that  which  nature  has  provided  in 
its  black  skin.  The  large  majority  are  dressed  and  there 
is  nothing  grotesque  or  foolish  in  their  costumes.  Most 
of  the  men  wear  a  white  undershirt  and  a  large  square 
robe  of  cotton,  usually  of  bright  colours,  bound  around 
the  waist  and  falling  almost  to  the  feet.  This  is  the  most 
becoming  male  dress  in  Africa  ;  and  the  black  man  in  his 
own  climate  always  looks  best  in  bright  colours.  A  few 
of  the  men,  in  too  great  haste  to  be  civilized,  wear  shirts 
and  trousers,  the  trousers  a  manifest  misfit  and  the  shirt 
outside  the  trousers.  This  mode  of  wearing  the  shirt, 
however,  I  would  not  criticise  ;  it  is  charmingly  naive, 
and  rather  sensible  when  one  becomes  accustomed  to  it. 


AFTER  A  YEAR  157 

The  women  wear  a  similar  square  robe  of  bright  cotton, 
or  better  material,  bound  around  immediately  below  the 
arms,  leaving  the  shoulders  bare,  and  falling  to  their  feet. 
But  among  them  are  many,  both  men  and  women,  who 
wear  a  smaller  cloth,  bound  around  the  waist  and  falling 
to  the  knees,  with  nothing  on  the  upper  body.  Individ- 
uals have  different  costumes  but  these  are  the  types ;  and 
the  types  are  so  established  that  anything  eccentric  or 
much  out  of  style  would  occasion  a  smile.  People  of  the 
bush  sometimes  straggle  into  the  service  so  absurdly 
dressed  that  the  gravity  of  the  entire  congregation  is  up- 
set. It  was  so  one  Sunday  when  the  following  incident 
occurred. 

While  I  had  fever  at  Efulen,  being  obliged  to  change 
clothing  "frequently,  I  discarded  pajamas  for  nightshirts. 
They  were  long  ones  that  reached  to  my  feet.  These 
when  taken  off  were  usually  hung  near  the  fire  to  dry, 
where  the  smoke  stained  and  discoloured  them.  When  I 
was  well  L  discarded  them.  Mr.  Kerr,  for  some  reason, 
presented  one  to  a  Bulu  man.  Soon  afterwards  the  man 
visited  the  coast  and  of  course  took  this  wonderful  gar- 
ment with  him.  What  is  the  use  of  having  fine  clothes 
if  one  is  not  to  show  them  off?  The  Bulu  man,  looking 
very  grand  in  my  stained  nightshirt,  attended  the  serv- 
ice in  the  Batanga  Church,  came  late,  of  course,  and 
walked  up  the  long  aisle  to  a  front  seat,  while  the  large 
congregation  made  an  agonizing  effort  to  "remember  the 
Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy."  But  there  were  a  number 
of  missionaries  present  and  they  had  heard  me  speak  of 
those  garments  and  their  extreme  discolouration  by  the 
smoke  j  and  when  they  saw  the  Bulu  enter  they  imme- 
diately recognized  the  garment. 

Some  of  the  Batanga  people  had  begun  to  wear  shoes, 
though  there  is  no  need  of  them  and  they  look  better 
without  them.  They  have  a  preference  for  heavy  shoes 


158        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

that  will  make  a  noise  as  they  walk  up  the  aisle,  other- 
wise people  might  not  know  that  they  had  them.  But 
above  all,  they  must  have  shoes  with  "  squeaking"  soles, 
— or,  as  the  natives  say,  shoes  that  "  talk  "t;  and  the  first 
question  a  native  asks  when  he  would  buy  a  pair  of  shoes 
is:  "Do  they  talk  proper  loud?"  They  wear  black 
shoe-strings  when  they  cannot  get  pink  or  white.  Some 
of  them  are  so  uncomfortable  that  they  remove  their  shoes 
during  the  service. 

The  collection  at  the  Batanga  service  was  gathered  only 
occasionally  and  was  unique  in  quality  and  quantity — 
chickens,  bananas,  cassava,  sweet  potatoes,  dried  fish, 
pieces  of  cloth,  shirts,  hats,  knives,  boards,  etc. 

But  I  had  occasion  frequently  to  review  the  records  of 
the  session  of  the  church,  and  of  realizing  the  undercur- 
rents of  the  lives  of  those  people  ;  and  there  I  found  noth- 
ing amusing.  It  was  a  sad,  sad  story  of  pathos  and  dire 
tragedy.  There  were  confessions  of  weak  failure ;  but 
there  were  other  confessions  of  defeat  only  after  long  and 
brave  fighting  against  temptations  which  those  in  Chris- 
tian lands  cannot  conceive  and  which  I  cannot  relate. 
There  were  stories  of  domestic  sorrow.  A  Christian  man 
tells  the  session  that  he  did  not  partake  of  the  communion 
because  his  heart  was  full  of  bitterness  against  his  heathen 
wife  for  her  unfaithfulness  and  immorality.  A  Christian 
woman  declares  that  she  refused  to  marry  a  man  who  had 
other  wives.  She  was  tied  hands  and  feet  and  carried  to 
his  house.  Another  woman  tells  the  wrongs  she  endured 
from  a  heathen  husband.  A  broken-hearted  father  tells 
that  he  had  not  lately  attended  the  services  because  the 
death  of  his  only  son  had  filled  him  with  doubt  of  God's 
goodness.  A  widowed  mother  also  confesses  doubt  be- 
cause God  had  taken  away  her  only  son.  These  are  the 
icecik  Christians  who  have  been  called  before  the  session  ; 
and  these  are  the  men  and  women  at  whose  weaknesses 


AFTER  A  YEAR  159 

travellers  arid  other  critics  would  laugh  and  point  the  finger 
of  scorn,  and  because  of  them  condemn  the  entire  congre- 
gation of  those  who  profess  to  be  Christians.  The  rna- 
jority  of  white  men  in  Africa  judge  the  native  Christians 
without  mercy,  and  they  judge  the  whole  native  church 
by  its  weakest  member.  At  Las  Palmas,  on  Grand  Canary 
Island,  I  tasted  a  fresh  fig  for  the  first  time  in  my  life  and 
pronounced  it  ''disgusting,"  whereupon  a  native  Span- 
iard, a  judge  of  figs,  looking  at  me,  said :  "O,  sir,  you 
are  eating  a  bad  one  !  "  He  was  right.  I  was  eating  a 
bad  fig  and  judging  the  whole  species  by  that  one.  It  is 
thus  that  many  white  men  judge  the  native  Christians  of 
Africa. 

Prominent  in  the  Batauga  Church,  and  always  present 
at  the  service,  was  a  woman,  Bekalida,  noted  in  her  tribe 
for  her  good  looks,  but  in  these  latter  years  smitten  with 
a  disease  that  had  horribly  disfigured  her,  and  had  eaten 
away  her  entire  nose.  When  this  calamity  befell  her  she 
was  so  overwhelmed  with  grief  and  shame  that  for  a  long 
time  she  could  not  bear  to  be  seen  in  public.  But  at  last, 
with  her  face  covered,  she  appeared  in  the  little  prayer- 
meeting  of  women  conducted  by  her  great  friend,  Miss 
Nassau,  and  there,  in  pathetic  and  eloquent  words,  she 
poured  out  her  heart  while  they  wept,  and  told  them  how 
that  she  had  been  vain  and  proud  until  the  Lord  in  His 
love  had  smitten  her  ;  how  that  during  the  long  weeks  of 
her  affliction  faith  forsook  her.  Her  heart  was  hard  and 
rebellious  and  she  felt  that  she  could  not  bear  her  shame  ; 
but  she  yearned  for  that  comfort  that  only  God  could 
give ;  she  came  to  Jesus  again  in  penitence  and  He  re- 
ceived her  and  her  heart  was  filled  with  the  peace  of 
God  ;  for  it  was  better  to  be  disfigured  than  to  be  vain  and 
proud.  , 

In  that  same  congregation  there  was  one  Mbula,  who 
afterwards  became  a  minister ;  a  young  man  of  simple 


160        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

manners  and  godly  life.  Growing  up  in  the  midst  of 
African  degradation,  he  was  yet  pure,  strong  and  manly. 
He  developed  unusual  gifts  as  a  preacher,  simplicity  and 
force,  fluency  of  speech  and  a  charming  grace  of  manner 
that  many  white  ministers  might  envy.  There  was 
another  young  man,  Eduma,  who  also  became  a  minister 
and  is  to-day  an  influential  leader  among  those  who  are 
striving  to  live  in  a  higher  and  better  way  than  they 
have  hitherto  known.  Already  from  that  congregation 
missionaries  have  gone  to  the  Bulu,  whom  they  formerly 
despised.  At  least  one  of  those  missionaries,  Xdenga,  has 
lived  a  life,  and  done  a  work,  of  faith  and  devotion  that 
is  fitted  to  surprise  and  to  convince  all  those  who  have 
seriously  doubted  whether  the  African  is  capable  of  a 
high  ideal  and  of  patient  performance. 

Towards  the  end  of  our  first  year  among  the  Bulu  it  was 
very  plain  that  a  change  had  taken  place  in  our  relations 
to  them.  They  had  become  convinced  that  our  persons 
were  not  inviolable  as  they  had  first  thought  and  that  we 
had  no  fetishes  to  serve  us  as  a  potent  protection  ;  while, 
on  the  other  hand,  though  we  had  steadily  gained  their 
regard,  it  might  be  doubted  whether  their  friendship  was 
yet  sufficient  for  our  security.  If  there  is  ever  any  dan- 
ger of  violence  it  is  in  this  period  of  transition.  One  or 
two  incidents  will  illustrate  the  change  of  feeling. 

In  a  certain  town  which  Dr.  Good  and  I  once  visited, 
much  farther  in  the  interior  and  where  no  white  man  had 
ever  been  before,  a  young  Bulu  man  came  to  us  at  the 
close  of  the  service  and  addressing  us  in  English  said  :  "  I 
sabey  English  mouf . ? '  Imagine  our  surprise  !  He  gave  us 
some  account  of  himself. 

His  name  was  Keli.  When  a  child  he  had  been  taken 
by  his  father  on  a  visit  to  a  neighbouring  tribe.  While 
there  he  was  stolen  from  his  father  and  taken  to  a  distant 
village  where  he  became  a  slave.  Some  time  afterwards 


PASTOR  AND  ELDERS  OF  THE  BATANGA  CHURCH. 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  ; 

OF 


AFTER  A  YEAR  161 

lie  was  taken  to  the  coast  and  sold  to  a  chief  of  the  coast 
tribe.  Finally  the  chief  sold  him  to  a  white  man,  who  in 
turn  gave  him  to  another  white  man  and  he  was  taken  to 
Gaboon.  His  master  was  a  Frenchman,  and  Keli  was  his 
personal  attendant.  The  boy  made  himself  so  useful  that 
when  the  Frenchman  went  on  furlough  to  France  he  took 
him  along.  After  living  in  Paris  a  considerable  time  the 
Frenchman  concluded  not  to  return  to  Africa ;  where- 
upon he  sent  Keli  to  England  and  gave  him  into  the 
charge  of  an  English  trader  who  was  expecting  soon  to 
sail  for  Africa.  With  this  trader  Keli  returned  to  Africa. 
Not  long  after  this  the  trader  having  occasion  to  visit 
Batanga  took  Keli  with  him.  This  was  his  opportunity. 
In  the  night  he  fled  to  the  forest.  Finally  he  fell  in  with 
a  caravan  going  to  the  Bulu  country,  an.d  at  last  reached 
his  town,  after  an  absence  of  seven  yearSj  .during  which 
his  father  and  mother  had  died,  and  he  had  been  long 
forgotten.  Keli  had  not  been  trained  by  his  various 
masters  in  wisdom  and  judgment,  and  he  made  the  mis- 
take of  telling  the  people  all  that  he  had  seen  in  Paris 
and  London — all  about  the  big  buildings  and  multitudes 
of  people,  all  about  the  clothes  they  wore  and  the  very 
cold  season  of  snow  and  ice,  all  about  horses  and  car- 
riages and  railway  trains — quite  overtaxing  their  cre- 
dulity, and  earning  the  reputation  of  a  notorious  liar  and 
incorrigible  fool.  Missionaries  sometimes  make  the  same 
mistake  and  pay  the  same  penalty. 

Meantime  Keli  had  become  accomplished  to  the  extent 
of  knowing  French  and  English  and  five  native  dialects. 
But,  alas !  how  destitute  of  moral  power  is  civilization 
alone  !  Keli  did  not  seem  to  have  any  moral  ideas.  The 
restraining  fear  of  his  former  fetishism  had  been  expelled, 
and  no  moral  motive  implanted.  His  morality  was  much 
below  that  of  the  average  Bulu,  except  in  the  shedding 
of  blood.  Nothing  but  long  familiarity  can  make  that  an 


162        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

indifferent  matter  to  any  man  however  degraded ;  and 
Keli  had  a  horror  of  blood.  We  took  him  home  with  us 
to  Efulen  and  made  him  cook  and  houseboy,  for  we  were 
in  our  usual  strait  at  the  time.  He  knew  his  work  well 
and  was  unapproached  in  service  for  the  short  time  that 
he  behaved.  But  at  the  first  opportunity,  one  Sunday 
during  the  service,  Keli  captured  and  stole  a  chicken, 
the  mother  of  a  young  brood.  He  strewed  feathers  along 
a  bush-path  to  make  believe  that  a  wild  animal  had  taken 
it.  Of  course  it  will  be  remembered  that  among  a  people 
who  have  so  little,  a  chicken  is  one  of  the  high  values. 
The  theft  was  not  insignificant  in  the  mind  of  the  Bulu. 
But  for  us  the  really  serious  import  of  the  matter  was 
that  it  raised  the  question  as  to  whether  they  could  steal 
from  us  with  impunity,  or  with  any  possibility  of  not  be- 
ing detected.  They  had  never  attempted  it  before,  being 
restrained  by  the  dread  of  our  supposed  fetishes,  which 
Keli  knew  to  be  a  delusion.  I  need  not  say  that  we  had 
never  fostered  the  delusion,  yet  it  had  served  a  provi- 
dential use.  It  was  now  likely  to  be  dispelled  and  we 
were  not  certain  as  to  the  consequences.  Keli  immedi- 
ately killed  the  chicken  and  gave  it  to  a  Bulu  man,  his 
accomplice,  who  wrapped  it  in  a  loin-cloth  and  took  it  to 
his  town  while  Keli  himself  came  running  to  me  in  great 
distress,  as  soon  as  the  service  was  concluded,  telling  a 
most  interesting  story  of  a  bushcat  that  he  had  seen  just 
as  it  was  disappearing  with  the  chicken,  and  how  he  had 
given  chase  and  had  tried  to  rescue  it.  Of  course  I  sus- 
pected himself,  but  I  said  nothing  until,  by  a  chain  of 
evidence  that  I  have  forgotten,  I  traced  it  to  him.  We 
made  him  a  prisoner,  and  Dr.  Good  soon  wrung  a  con- 
fession from  him.  He  said  he  would  find  the  chicken — 
which,  however,  having  lost  its  head,  could  never  be  the 
same  chicken  again.  I  took  him  to  town  still  a  prisoner, 
a  workman  walking  behind  him  with  a  rope  around  his 


AFTER  A  YEAR  163 

waist.  He  led  me  through  the  town  to  the  house  of  his 
accomplice.  Entering  the  house  he  proceeded  directly 
to  the  bed  aiid  from  underneath  it  produced  the  chicken, 
wrapped  in  the  cloth  of  the  other  thief. 

I  took  the  chicken  and  the  cloth  and  started  back  to 
the  station,  still  accompanied  by  Keli,  and  a  long  pro- 
cession of  natives.  I  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  when 
the  owner  of  the  cloth  with  a  number  of  men  following, 
came  running  from  behind,  and  dashing  past  me  with  a 
shout,  immediately  turned  about,  placed  himself  in  the 
narrow  path  before  me,  and  with  his  long  knife  in  his 
raised  arm  demanded  his  cloth.  It  may  have  been  mere 
bluff  on  his  part,  one  cannot  tell.  The  chief  danger,  if 
there  was  any,  was  not  their  natural  brutality  so  much  as 
their  excitement.  Of  course  I  could  not  yield  to  a  de- 
mand that  was  really  a  threat  and  so  bring  us  into  con- 
tempt. But  I  was  far  from  comfortable  and  I  would 
gladly  have  made  a  present  of  the  entire  incident  to  my 
worst  enemy.  My  resources  were,  in  the  first  place, 
straight  bluff,  and  second,  the  moral  prestige  of  the 
white  man.  Keeping  my  eye  fixed  upon  him  I  ordered 
him  out  of  the  path,  and  as  he  did  not  obey,  I  suddenly 
struck  him  as  heavy  a  blow  as  I  could, — so  suddenly  that 
he  was  taken  completely  off  his  guard  and  was  thrown 
headlong  into  the  thicket,  while  I  passed  on.  Surprised 
more  than  hurt,  it  took  him  some  time  to  recover  him- 
self and  to  take  counsel  with  his  fellows.  Meantime, 
wishing  to  avoid  an  ugly  palaver,  and  still  to  retain  per- 
sonal authority,  I  unfolded  the  cloth,  discovered  before 
the  eyes  of  the  people  that  it  was  very  dirty  and  full  of 
holes,  laughed  at  it  and  got  them  to  laugh,  and  finally 
threw  it  aside,  saying :  i  i  Tell  him  that  this  cloth 
is  not  fit  for  a  white  man  to  take."  As  I  moved  on  I 
heard  the  man  and  his  friends  coming  again,  running 
and  yelling  ;  but  as  he  came  up  the  people  shouted 


164        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

that  they  had  his  cloth,  and  the  sight  of  it  appeased  his 
anger. 

That  night  we  kept  Keli  a  prisoner  in  our  house.  Dr. 
Good  thought  that  in  our  peculiar  situation  we  could  not 
afford  to  let  him  go  unpunished.  With  great  reluctance 
he  advised  that  he  ought  to  be  flogged  in  the  presence  of 
the  people.  He  was  always  kind  and  considerate  towards 
the  natives,  but  he  was  not  a  man  who  would  shirk  a 
duty  because  it  was  disagreeable.  For  myself,  my  mind 
was  not  quite  clear  that  flogging  was  a  moral  necessity. 
But  I  knew  Dr.  Good  well  and  had  learned  to  trust  him, 
so  I  consented  that  he  should  do^as  he  thought  best.  The 
next  morning,  therefore,  he  and  I  took  Keli  down  to  the 
principal  town,  and  having  called  all  the  people  together, 
Dr.  Good  told  them,  in  native  fashion,  the  story  of  Keli's 
wrong.  And  he  added  that  in  view  of  Keli's  youth  and 
the  hard  circumstances  of  his  life  he  had  decided  that  he 
would  only  flog  him  and  dismiss  him.  Thereupon,  with 
a  rod  prepared  for  th,e  purpose,  he  began  to  administer 
the  flogging. 

Now,  if  I  were  relating  fiction  and  not  reality,  I  should 
certainly  proceed  to  have  Keli  properly  flogged  and  the 
mind  of  the  community  deeply  impressed  in  consequence. 
But  as  reality  never  quite  attains  the  ideal,  and  as  I  may 
not  substitute  imagination  for  history  in  this  sober  nar- 
rative, I  must  tell  of  "  the  slip  twixt  the  cup  and  the  lip." 
Prominent  among  Keli's  moral  discrepancies  was  coward- 
ice ;  and  even  before  the  rod  descended  for  the  first 
time  he  uttered  a  scream  that  evidently  startled  Dr. 
Good,  for  he  let  go  his  hold  and  Keli  bounded  from  him. 
Dr.  Good  chased  him  and  could  easily  have  caught  him 
but  it  had  been  raining  and  the  clay  surface  of  the  street 
was  smooth  and  slippery,  giving  Keli's  bare  feet  a 
decided  advantage.  They  both  resembled  amateur  per- 
formers on  roller  skates.  The  chase  that  followed  seemed 


AFTER  A  YEAR  165 

to  appeal  peculiarly  to  the  humour  of  the  natives,  which 
was  the  more  excessive  because  of  the  strong  reaction 
from  fear  and  apprehension.  They  laughed  wildly. 
Keli  led  the  way  around  the  palaver-house  once  or  twice, 
then  down  the  street,  Dr.  Good  following  him  close  and 
reaching  after  him,  while  he  administered  what  would 
have  been  a  severe  flogging  but  that  the  strokes  persist- 
ently fell  about  twelve  inches  behind  Keli's  shoulders, 
affording  him,  I  imagine,  an  acute  realization  of  the  old 
adage,  "A  miss  is  as  good  as  a  mile."  Soon  they 
reached  a  steep  slope  in  the  street,  and  Keli,  steadily 
gaining,  at  last  made  his  escape.  I,  looking  on,  main- 
tained an  exterior  of  stern  gravity  that  was  the  very  an- 
tithesis of  my  feeling.  But  deeper  than  outward  gravity 
and  inward  laughter  I  was  praying  that  nothing  might 
happen  to  impede  Keli's  steady  progress;  for  this  flog- 
ging in  pantomime  served  to  impress  a  moral  lesson, 
while  it  left  no  marks  on  poor  Keli's  skin,  whom  seven 
tribes  and  nations  had  helped  to  degrade.  I  should  not 
wonder  if  Dr.  Good  himself  felt  somewhat  as  I  did. 

On  our  way  home  Dr.  Good  intimated  to  me  the  moral 
propriety  of  not  mentioning  the  incident  to  Mr.  Kerr  or 
any  of  the  missionaries  at  the  coast,  for  I  was  soon  going 
to  the  coast. 

" Indeed,"  said  I,  "you  could  not  possibly  bribe  me 
to  silence  regarding  the  episode  of  this  morning.  It 
would  be  a  great  wrong,  in  this  weary  land,  to  deprive 
my  fellow  missionaries  of  such  an  entertainment,  and  I 
am  really  thinking  of  going  to  the  coast  a  day  earlier 
than  I  had  expected." 

No  man  could  yield  to  the  inevitable  with  better  grace 
than  Dr.  Good.  Before  we  reached  home  he  was  laugh- 
ing ;  and  he  was  even  disposed  to  anticipate  me  in  telling 
the  story,  which  he  did  with  dramatic  effects  and  graphic 
touches  inimitable. 


166        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  the  Bulu  conceived  the 
idea  of  wresting  from  us  a  higher  price  for  all  articles  of 
native  food.  When  we  refused  their  demand  they  all 
joined  together  in  a  boycott.  Our  position  was  serious 
enough ;  for  we  had  a  number  of  workmen  from  the  coast 
whose  entire  food  we  purchased  from  the  Bulu.  We  hap- 
pened to  have  rice  on  hand  which  for  the  time  we  gave 
the  men  and  which  was  sufficient  to  last  several  days. 
Meantime,  it  happened  that  there  was  more  sickness  than 
usual.  Some  of  the  principal  chief's  wives  had  bad  ulcers 
and  were  coming  daily  for  treatment.  But  one  day  when 
our  rice  was  nearly  exhausted,  Dr.  Good  turned  them  all 
away,  saying  that  he  would  treat  them  when  the  people 
would  bring  food.  This  was  a  possibility  that  had  never 
occurred  to  them.  A  few  days  later  they  decided  to  bring 
food  and  end  the  boycott.  But  now  that  they  had  once 
attempted  it  there  was  need  that  we  should  always  be  pre- 
pared by  having  on  hand  a  supply  of  rice. 

About  this  time  I  went  to  the  coast  expecting  to  re- 
main only  a  few  days  and  return  with  a  large  caravan  ; 
for  we  were  in  need  of  many  things.  It  was  on  this 
journey  that  the  incident  occurred  which  I  have  related, 
when  my  carriers  lost  their  way  with  my  bed  and  cloth- 
ing and  I  suffered  extreme  exposure.  The  result  was  a 
fever  immediately  upon  reaching  the  coast,  and  a  second 
fever  before  I  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  first  to 
set  out  for  the  interior,  and  then  a  third  fever,  the  worst 
that  I  had  had.  If  I  could  have  reached  Efulen  I  would 
probably  have  recovered  ;  for  the  climate  of  Batanga  is 
dreadful.  But  the  wet  season,  which  had  been  coming  on 
gradually  was  now  at  its  worst,  and  cut  off  the  possibility 
of  a  retreat  to  the  interior,  in  my  greatly  reduced  health. 
The  last  fever  had  been  so  serious  that  I  could  not  risk 
another.  There  was  only  one  thing  to  do.  So,  with  the 
advice  of  all  the  missionaries  at  Batanga,  I  took  the  first 


AFTER  A  YEAR  167 

steamer  that  came,  and  fled  from  the  coast,  having  been 
in  Africa  a  year  and  a  half.  Nor  did  my  health  permit 
of  my  return  to  Africa  for  four  full  years.  As  I  put  out 
from  the  Batanga  beach  in  a  surf -boat  and  stood  looking 
back  at  the  receding  shore  while  we  rose  and  fell  with  the 
heavy  waves  of  the  evening  sea,  the  last  one  that  I  saw 
was  Mrs.  Laffin,  who  again  came  out  and  waved  her  hand- 
kerchief. She  was  very  well  then  j  but  only  a  few  weeks 
later  she  died. 

A  month  after  Mrs.  Laffin' s  death  came  the  dreadful 
news  that  Dr.  Good  had  died.  He  was  a  man  of  iron 
constitution  and  such  amazing  vitality  of  body  and  mind 
that  it  seemed  impossible  to  associate  death  with  him. 
The  unnaturalness  of  his  death  impressed  me  as  might 
some  great  convulsion  in  nature  ;  as  if  a  mountain  had 
been  uprooted  and  cast  into  the  depths  of  the  sea. 

Mr.  Kerr  was  at  Efulen  when  Dr.  Good  died  and  several 
other  missionaries  had  arrived. 

While  I  was  still  there  Dr.  Good  had  planned  a  trip  of 
three  weeks  into  the  interior  further  than  he  had  yet  gone 
with  a  view  to  choosing  a  site  for  another  mission  station  ; 
but  circumstances  at  Efulen  led  him  to  postpone  the  jour- 
ney. At  that  time  he  received  a  message  from  a  notori- 
ous and  dreaded  chief  of  the  interior  near  the  present 
Elat,  warning  him  not  to  dare  to  come  into  his  country, 
for  that  he  would  surely  kill  him.  Dr.  Good,  however, 
continued  his  preparations  for  the  j  ourney.  In  the  course 
of  a  long  and  serious  conversation  as  to  what  it  would  be 
best  to  do  in  case  that  interior  chief  or  any  other  should 
do  him  violence  or  should  capture  and  detain  him,  he 
urged  and  exacted  from  me  a  promise  that  in  any  event 
the  German  government  should  not  be  called  to  his  as- 
sistance, even  to  save  his  life.  Not  that  he  denied  his 
right  to  protection  but  he  knew  the  severity  of  the  govern- 
ment, having  recently  witnessed  it  in  a  war  upon  a 


168        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

neighbouring  tribe.  And  indeed  I  myself  had  arrived  in 
Africa  in  time  to  see  something  of  the  desolation  of  that 
war  in  the  silent  and  smoking  remains  of  towns  from 
which  the  people  (all  who  had  escaped  from  the  sword) 
had  fled  into  the  depths  of  the  forest.  For  instance,  two 
little  boys  who  had  just  been  taken  into  our  school  at 
Batanga  had  been  found  alone  in  the  forest,  and  crying 
beside  the  dead  body  of  their  mother.  I  yielded  to 
Dr.  Good  a  reluctant  promise  as  he  desired  ;  for  I  could  not 
controvert  the  moral  principle  which  actuated  this  strong, 
brave-hearted  man. 

For  other  reasons  he  did  not  go  at  that  time  ;  but  not  long 
after  I  left  Africa,  and  upon  the  arrival  of  others,  he  set 
out  upon  this  hard  and  uncertain  journey.  Perhaps  he 
erred  on  the  side  of  economy  and  indifference  to  comfort, 
not  providing  himself  with  everything  procurable  that 
could  conserve  his  strength  and  vitality.  He  made  ex- 
tensive explorations  of  the  interior,  chose  the  site  for  a 
new  station,  returned  to  Efulen  exhausted,  and  the  next 
day  was  stricken  with  fever.  The  third  day  afterwards 
he  died,  having  been  delirious  most  of  the  time.  He  was 
only  thirty-seven  years  old.  His  last  conscious  words 
were  a  message  to  the  church  at  home,  '  *  See  that  I  have 
not  laboured  in  vain." 

Great  man  and  great  missionary  !  There  was  some- 
thing about  Dr.  Good  that  always  reminded  one  of 
Livingstone.  Six  years  later,  standing  at  his  grave  on 
Efulen  hill,  where  every  tree  and  every  foot  of  ground 
were  associated  with  his  memory,  I  recalled  the  inscription 
in  the  crypt  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  over  the  tomb  of  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  its  great  architect.  "If  you  ask  a 
monument  look  around  you."  The  Church  of  Efulen, 
the  growth  of  which  has  since  been  marvellous,  no 
costly  pile  of  stone  or  marble,  but  of  more  precious 
human  souls  upon  whose  darkness  the  light  of  heaven 


AFTER  A  YEAR  169 

has  dawned,  the  large  congregation  that  gathers  there  to 
worship  the  true  God,  and  the  many  changes  in  the 
community  near  and  far — these  are  the  lasting  monuments 
of  Dr.  Good. 


IX 

THE  KRUBOYS 

IT  was  not  on  the  voyage  to  Batanga,  but  on  subse- 
quent voyages  along  the  lower  coast,  to  the  Congo, 
to  St.  Paul  de  Loanda  and  Benguela,  that  I  was 
fully  impressed  with  the  service  of  the  black  man  to  the 
white  and  the  disposition  to  cruelty  on  the  part  of  the 
latter.  For  it  is  south  of  Batanga  that  the  natives 
employed  on  the  steamer  do  their  hardest  work.  What 
I  saw  and  heard  on  those  several  voyages  gave  ample  food 
for  reflection  upon  the  moral  danger  of  unrestrained 
authority  and  the  unfitness  of  most  men  to  govern  their 
fellows  of  lower  degree.  I  was  allowed  to  remain  ab- 
sorbed in  my  own  thoughts  as  there  were  but  few  passen- 
gers on  board  ;  on  one  such  journey  I  was  the  only  pas- 
senger for  three  weeks  out  of  five. 

After  leaving  Sierra  Leone  on  the  outward  voyage  the 
course  changes  eastward.  A  few  days  later  we  sighted 
the  coast  of  Liberia  and  nearly  opposite  Monrovia  we 
anchored  and  waited  for  eighty  black  men  who  were 
shipped  as  workmen  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage.  We 
anchored  far  out  at  sea ;  for  the  Liberian  coast  is  very 
rough  and  dangerous,  and  for  most  of  the  entire  coast  the 
latest  charts  are  more  than  fifty  years  old. 

These  workmen  belong  to  the  Kru  tribe.  They  do  all 
the  work  of  discharging  and  taking  on  cargo  for  the  en- 
tire voyage,  remaining  on  board  for  the  round  trip — 
usually  three  or  four  months — and  receiving  in  payment 

170 


THE  KRUBOYS  171 

an  average  of  a  shilling  a  day.  We  do  not  call  them 
"  Kruinen,"  but  "  Kruboys,"  for  in  Africa  they  are  boys 
till  they  die. 

The  Kruboys  are  the  "real  thing, "  the  Africans  that 
you  have  pictured  in  your  imagination  and  have  read 
about,  and  at  the  sight  of  them  coming  off  in  a  fleet  of 
large  canoes,  accompanied  by  the  whole  population,  al- 
most stark  naked — the  majority  wearing  a  bit  of  calico  the 
size  of  a  pocket-handkerchief—black  and  savage,  and 
each  of  them  yelling  like  ten  savages,  the  ladies  on  board 
usually  hurry  down  to  their  cabins  and  remain  for  a  while 
in  obscurity.  Eopes  are  thrown  over  to  the  Kruboys  and 
they  climb  the  side  of  the  ship  like  monkeys.  At  closer 
view  they  do  not  appear  savage  at  all.  Every  face  re- 
veals laughing  good-nature,  and  each  man  looking  after 
his  simple  necessities  in  a  businesslike  way  makes  himself 
as  comfortable  as  possible,  and  yells  as  loud  as  possible, 
while  he  asks  for  what  he  wants  and  declares  to  all  on 
board  what  he  is  going  to  do,  though  he  does  not  seem  to 
expect  anybody  to  listen  to  him  or  to  pay  any  attention 
to  him.  There  is  considerable  disputation,  some  quar- 
relling, and  an  occasional  fight.  They  have  a  remarkable 
way  of  passing  from  laughter  to  quarrel  and  from  fight  to 
song  by  the  easiest  sort  of  transition :  passion  does  not 
linger. 

One  soon  becomes  accustomed  to  their  nakedness,  and 
even  the  ladies  seem  to  forget  it.  In  this  they  are  helped 
by  the  native's  childlike  unconsciousness  of  any  breach 
of  etiquette.  Then  sometimes  one  goes  to  the  other  ex- 
treme and  thinks  that  there  is  nothing  of  the  savage 
about  them  at  all — barring  the  yell  and  a  soon-discovered 
incorrigible  indifference  to  the  categories  of  "mine"  and 
'*  thine  "  with  consequent  insecurity  of  all  portable  prop- 
erty. In  this  stage  of  developing  opinion  I  have  heard 
ladies  pronounce  them  "perfectly  lovely."  And  the 


172        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Old  Coaster  blandly  informs  them  that  they  are  "as 
innocent  as  lambs.'7 

The  Kruboy  is  of  real  negro  stock,  and  is  not  so  grace- 
ful, not  so  intellectual,  not  so  gentle  in  manners,  as  the 
natives  further  south  of  the  Calabar,  the  Bantu  tribes, 
who  are  not  classified  as  negroes.  But  the  Kruboy 's 
physique  is  magnificent,  in  size,  development,  and 
strength.  They  prefer  to  sleep  in  the  compauionway  or 
some  other  sheltered  place  ;  but,  as  there  is  not  room  for 
all,  most  of  them  lie  in  their  nakedness  on  the  open  deck, 
exposed  to  all  kinds  of  weather.  Their  food  is  rice,  salt 
pork,  and  sea  biscuits.  Their  degradation  is  manifest 
not  so  much  in  the  indecency  that  most  people  expect,  as 
in  their  unappeasable  hunger  and  greedy  appetite.  All 
food  is  "chop"  to  the  Kruboy,  and  when  he  eats  he 
"chops."  You  may  not  like  this  word— you  may  hate 
it  j  but  you  will  be  obliged  to  use  it  continually  on  the 
coast ;  and  the  Kruboy  would  not  understand  any  substi- 
tute. One  day  the  Kruboys  were  landing  some  salt  at 
Batanga  for  our  missionary,  Mr.  Gault,  when  the  boat 
capsized  in  the  surf  and  before  they  could  recover  it  the 
salt  had  all  dissolved  in  the  sea.  They  came  to  Mr.  Gault 
carrying  the  empty,  dripping  sacks,  but  absolutely  in- 
different to  the  loss,  and  said :  * '  Massa,  the  sea  done 
chop  all  them  salt." 

The  English  names  of  the  Kruboys  are  interesting,  and 
need  some  explanation.  In  the  African  languages  there 
is  no  distinct  vocabulary  of  "  proper  names."  As  it  was 
with  the  Jews,  and  some  other  nations  ancient  and  mod- 
ern, so  in  Africa  names  are  usually  descriptive  or  com- 
memorative of  some  incident,  notable  or  otherwise,  and 
any  word,  phrase,  or  sentence,  may  be  so  used.  For  in- 
stance on  the  Gaboon  River  there  is  a  very  small  village, 
which,  as  I  was  entering  it  for  the  first  time,  one  of  my 
boat- boys  described  as  consisting  of  four  men,  four  women, 


THE  KRUBOYS  173 

four  houses,  four  goats,  and  four  chickens ;  but  the  name 
of  it  was  Bi  Biana  Milam — We  Despise  Big  Towns.  I 
thought  it  was  rather  pathetic  ;  for  I  know  how  the  big 
towns  vex  the  little  towns.  Childlessness  is  a  reproach 
and  a  great  sorrow  among  African  women  ;  and  a  certain 
woman  in  Gaboon  who  was  advanced  in  years  when  she 
bore  her  first  child  gave  him  a  name  which  means,  "It- 
is-no-disgrace-to-be-childless."  These  names  sound  far 
better  in  their  own  language. 

But  the  Kruboys  of  the  steamers  take  English  names 
which,  to  say  the  least,  are  not  dignified,  and  are  more 
absurd  when  the  ship's  officers  call  them  out  in  anger — 
and  the  ship's  officers  are  always  angry  when  they  talk 
to  the  Kruboys.  Prying-Pan,  Black  Kettle,  Crowbar, 
Hani  and  Eggs,  Liver  and  Bacon,  Bottle  of  Beer, 
Whisky,  Bag  of  Eice,  "Weariness,  Three  O'clock,  Day- 
break, Half  a  Dinner,  Castor  Oil,  Every  Day,  To-morrow, 
Never  Tire,  Sea  Breeze,  Jim  Crow,  Two  Pounds  Six, 
Smiles,  Silence,  My  Friend,  Gunpowder,  Bayonet,  Car- 
tridge, Crocodile,  Misery,  Get-your-hair-cut,  Tom  Tom, 
Pagan  and  Shoo  Fly  are  names  I  have  heard. 

While  we  are  on  this  subject  we  may  as  well  get  ac- 
quainted with  the  Kru  English,  which  is  the  "  Pigeon 
English"  of  the  coast.  All  Kruboys  " speak  English 
Mouth"  in  this  peculiar  dialect.  To  people  of  intelli- 
gence and  cultivation  it  is  always  very  offensive  at  first. 
They  especially  cannot  bear  to  hear  white  people  use  it ; 
nor  does  it  seem  to  them  in  the  least  degree  necessary. 
Good  English  is  as  simple  and  they  think  would  be  quite 
as  easily  understood  by  the  black  man.  I  remember  well 
how  it  first  affected  me.  I  was  disgusted  when  I  was  told 
that  I  would  soon  be  speaking  it  myself.  The  first  change 
in  my  feelings  took  place  when  I  found  that  it  had  its 
method  and  its  idiom.  It  is  not  "  any  old  English. " 
There  is  correct  and  incorrect  Kru  English.  It  may 


174        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

properly  be  regarded  as  a  dialect.  The  African  languages, 
however  they  may  differ  in  vocabulary,  have  a  common 
idiom.  Kru  English  is  simply  the  idiom  of  the  African 
languages  with  an  English  vocabulary.  There  are  some 
irregularities  and  a  small  number  of  importations  from 
other  tongues,  the  principal  foreign  word  being  "  sabey  " 
for  ' l  know, ' '  from  the  French  1 1  savez. ' '  One  of  its  princi- 
pal features  is  the  use  of  the  verb  "live"  for  the  verb 
"to  be." 

I  stand  in  the  doorway  and  call :  "  Half  a  Dinner ! " 
and  the  answer  comes  back  faintly :  "I  live  for  come." 

If  I  want  to  ask  a  boy  whether  Shoo  Fly  has  arrived,  I 
say  :  "  Shoo  Fly  live? "  And  as  Shoo  Fly  never  arrives 
when  he  is  expected  I  probably  get  the  answer :  "Shoo 
Fly  no  live ; "  or,  "Shoo  Fly  no  lib  j "  or  possibly,  " He 
lib  for  chop,  massa." 

To  "  find  "  a  thing  is  to  search  for  it,  though  one  may 
not  find  it  at  all ;  and  a  man  will  say  :  "I  find  him,  find 
him,  long  time  and  never  look  him." 

There  is  a  great  dearth  of  prepositions  in  the  African 
languages;  and  in  Kru  language  the  word  "for"  serves 
all  prepositional  uses.  It  seldom  uses  more  than  one 
demonstrative,  and  the  word  "  them  "  is  forced  to  do  this 
reluctant  service. 

I  ask  :  "  What  for  them  man  Weariness  he  no  work  to- 
day?" and  perhaps  get  the  answer  :  "  He  live  for  sick. 
He  live  close  for  die." 

There  are  certain  stock  phrases  that  one  hears  all  the 
time  :  "You  sabey  Euglis  mouf?  "  "I  hear  him  small, 
small."  "Massa,  I  no  sabey  them  palaver."  "Them 
man  he  make  me  trouble  too  much."  " I  go  one  time" 
("one  time"  is  "at  once"),  or  "I  go  come  one  time." 

Kruboys  are  not  the  only  Africans  who  speak  Kru 
English.  It  is  spoken  by  thousands  along  the  coast  who 
have  no  knowledge  of  any  other  European  language. 


THE  KKUBOYS  175 

Even  Frenchmen,  and  especially  Germans,  in  their  own 
colonies,  sometimes  have  to  learn  Kru  English  in  order  to 
converse  with  their  boat-boys.  White  men  are  often 
proud  of  speaking  it  well,  and  I  have  sometimes  seen  men 
standing  at  the  head  of  the  gangway  and  shouting  down 
to  the  boys  in  a  boat  below,  apparently  for  no  other  reason 
than  to  display  their  linguistic  talent,  as  one  might  be 
vain  of  a  knowledge  of  French  or  German.  I  have  not 
used  it  as  much  as  some  ;  for,  in  the  Congo  Fran£ais  where 
I  spent  most  of  my  time,  very  little  English,  good  or  bad, 
is  spoken  ;  and  in  the  interior  one  does  not  hear  it  at  all. 
But  I  am  very  familiar  with  it.  I  have  preached  in  it 
and  have  even  prayed  in  it.  This  would  have  been  im- 
possible if  any  person  had  been  present  who  could  speak 
good  English.  Humour  is  peculiarly  a  social  enjoyment. 
It  takes  at  least  two  persons  to  enjoy  a  joke.  Often  in 
the  native  towns  I  have  witnessed  the  most  amusing  in- 
congruities without  being  in  the  least  amused,  until  I 
thought  of  it  afterwards,  sometimes  long  afterwards,  when 
talking  with  some  one  else  who  would  appreciate  the 
humour  and  see  the  incongruity  with  me.  So,  I  say,  I 
have  preached  in  the  Kru  English,  and,  reverently,  I  be- 
lieve—at least  without  any  consciousness  of  incongruity  ; 
but  if  an  English-speaking  person  had  entered  the  church 
I  could  scarcely  have  proceeded  to  the  end  of  the  sentence. 

Shortly  before  leaving  Africa  I  was  visiting  a  coast 
town  in  a  tribe  whose  own  language  I  did  not  know. 
But  they  understood  Kru  English,  and  I  preached  to  them 
in  that  dialect,  on  the  parable  of  the  Lost  Sheep.  It  will 
not  be  fully  appreciated  without  the  African  accent,  tone, 
and  gesture.  I  related  the  parable  to  them  about  as 
follows : 

S'pose  one  man  he  have  hunderd  sheep  and  one  sheep 
go  loss  for  bush,  what  you  think  them  man  he  go  do  ? 
Well  he  go  lef '  all  them  other  sheep  and  he  go  find  them 


176        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

sheep  he  live  for  bush.  He  go  find  him,  find  him,  and 
no  tire  till  he  look  him.  S'pose  he  find  him  four  or  three 
days  and  never  look  him,  well,  he  no  tire ;  and  s'pose  he  find 
him  seven  or  six  days  and  never  look  him  he  no  tire  ;  ten 
or  nine  days  and  never  look  him,  he  no  tire  j  he  go  find 
him,  find  him,  find  him,  all  time  till  he  look  him.  And 
s'pose  he  look  him,  well,  he  take  them  sheep  on  him 

shoulder,  so He  carry  him  for  house  and  give  him 

plenty  chop,  and  he  be  glad  too  much.  Then  he  go  call 
all  him  friends,  plenty  man,  plenty  wife,  and  small  pic- 
caninny, and  he  say  to  them:  "Say,  you  sabey  them 
sheep  that  done  loss  for  bush  f  Well,  this  day  I  look  him. 
Then  all  people  they  make  palaver  and  be  happy  too 
much.  So,  s'pose  man  go  lef '  all  him  sins  and  do  God- 
fashion  5  well,  all  them  people,  what  live  for  top,  they 
make  fine  palaver,  and  be  happy  too  much.'7 

There  may  be  inaccuracies  in  this,  but  it  is  tolerably 
correct  j  and  I  am  sure  that  my  African  audience  under- 
stood it.  There  is  Kru  English  and  Kru-er  English,  and 
Kru-est  English.  In  the  latter,  "that"  and  "them" 
become  "dat"  and  "dem."  But  even  if  many  natives 
use  this  form  they  perfectly  understand  the  white  man 
when  he  uses  the  correct  form ;  and  it  is  execrably  bad 
taste  to  exaggerate  either  the  pronunciation  or  the  idiom, 
and  to  outdo  the  native  himself  in  departing  from  the 
correct  form.  It  also  seems  to  me  to  be  bad  taste  for 
white  people  to  use  Kru  English  when  it  is  not  necessary, 
as  some  do.  And  when  a  white  woman  deliberately 
adopts  in  her  own  household  the  word  "  chop,"  and  other 
such  words,  she  puts  a  strain  upon  my  respect. 

Once  when  I  was  living  at  Gaboon,  a  north-coast  man 
from  Accra  called  on  me,  with  whom  I  conversed  in  Kru 
English.  That  evening  I  received  a  letter  from  him 
which  I  kept  for  a  long  time  as  one  of  my  souvenirs  of 
Gaboon.  I  venture  to  reproduce  it  from  memory  : 


THE  KRUBOYS  177 

Right  Reverend  Father  in  God  : 

This  day  I  done  look  gold  toof  what  live  for  your  mouf. 
All  my  life  I  never  look  so  fine  toof.  Berra  well.  I  like 
toof  for  my  own  mouf  all  same  as  them  toof.  I  no  like 
white  toof  again.  S'pose  you  go  buy  me  one  toof  all  same 
as  yours;  s'pose  you  buy  him  for  your  country  ;  berra 
well ;  I  be  fit  for  pay  you  cash  and  I  be  your  fren  all 
time.  Please,  Mister  Milgan,  do  this  for  God's  sake. 

Your  fren, 

(Signed)  JOSEPH  ACCRA. 

For  trade  and  commerce  between  Africa  and  the  civi- 
lized nations  the  Kruboy  is  at  present  more  important 
than  any  other  African,  and  is  almost  indispensable. 
For,  owing  to  the  heavy  surf  the  open  coast  is  nearly  in- 
accessible for  the  landing  of  cargo  and  can  only  be 
worked  by  the  most  skillful  and  daring  boatmen,  and  the 
Kruboy  excels  all  Africans  in  these  qualities.  They  re- 
ceived their  first  training  from  the  slavers  of  early  days, 
in  whose  service  they  learned  both  beach  work  and  ship 
work.  The  slavers  finding  them  useful  allies  and  wishing 
to  maintain  friendly  relations  with  them  persuaded  them 
to  put  a  distinguishing  mark  upon  themselves  so  that 
none  of  them  might  be  taken  and  enslaved  by  mistake. 
This  mark  is  a  tattooed  band,  with  an  open  pattern,  run- 
ning down  the  middle  of  the  forehead  and  to  the  tip  of 
the  nose.  The  fashion,  when  once  established,  remained, 
and  they  are  all  tattooed  in  this  way.  The  Kruboy  also 
until  late  years  hired  with  traders  all  along  the  coast  to 
do  beach  work,  that  is,  handle  boats  and  cargo,  sample 
rubber  and  oil,  prepare  copra,  and  do  the  variety  of  work 
of  a  trading-house.  He  is  willing  to  serve  an  apprentice- 
ship almost  for  nothing,  during  which  time,  he  says,  he 
"  live  for  learn  sense."  He  is  paid  largely  in  goods. 

On  his   return  to  his  country  (and  he  will  not  stay 


ITS        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

away  longer  than  a  year)  the  Liberiau  government  exacts 
a  portion  of  his  goods.  A  large  part  of  the  remainder 
goes  to  the  elders  of  his  tribe  who  have  protected  his 
wives  in  his  absence.  If  he  refuses  this  demand,  which 
is  usually  exorbitant,  or  if  he  stays  away  too  long  from 
his  country,  the  wives  themselves  are  confiscated. 
Goods,  however,  that  are  made  up  into  clothing  are 
never  demanded  ;  and  this  accounts  for  a  habit  of  the 
Kruboy  which  sometimes  amazes  ship-passengers.  On 
his  return  as  a  deck-passenger  after  serving  a  year  down 
the  coast  he  turns  tailor  and  employs  all  his  time  in 
making  clothes,  cutting  them  out  and  sewing  them,  on 
the  deck.  If  there  are  many  Kruboys  thus  travelling 
the  lower  deck  presents  an  aspect  of  fantastic  activity. 
In  late  years  they  have  not  gone  far  down  the  coast  ex- 
cept as  ship -hands. 

The  Kru  people  are  peculiarly  inaccessible  to  Christian 
influence.  This  is  in  part  owing  to  the  fact  that  they  are 
away  so  much  of  the  time.  The  life  that  they  live  when 
thus  separated  from  their  people  and  the  nature  of  their 
contact  with  white  men  are  not  conducive  to  their  moral 
welfare.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  very  little  missionary 
work  has  been  done  among  them.  They  are  extremely  su- 
perstitious. The  surf,  with  which  the  Kruboy  fights  des- 
perate battles  for  his  life,  is  full  of  malignant  spirits  ;  and 
so  of  everything  that  opposes  or  hurts  him.  His  soul  leaves 
him  when  he  sleeps,  and  often  some  witch  catches  it  in  a 
trap  ;  whereupon  he  takes  sick  and  soon  dies.  Some- 
times the  witch  inflicts  a  fatal  wound  upon  the  soul ;  and 
sometimes  he  hangs  the  trap  over  the  fire  and  the  soul 
shrinks  and  dies,  himself  failing  and  dying  at  the  same 
time.  Occasionally,  however,  the  wandering  soul  stays 
away  of  its  own  accord.  A  witch-doctor  may  catch  it 
and  put  it  back  into  him  for  a  consideration.  Some- 
times when  the  soul  of  the  sleeper  would  return  in  the 


THE  KRUBOYS  179 

morning  it  finds  its  place  taken  by  some  malicious  spirit 
which  inflicts  sickness.  The  witch-doctor  must  first  ex- 
pel this  spirit  before  restoring  the  man's  soul. 

When  a  person  of  any  importance  dies  the  Kru  custom 
is  to  kill  a  number  of  others  to  accompany  him  to  the 
underworld.  The  underworld  is  somewhat  like  this,  and 
the  inhabitants  there  pass  their  time  somewhat  as  we  do 
here  ;  much  of  it  is  therefore  spent  in  talking  palavers. 
Sometimes  they  even  talk  palavers  which  began  in  this 
life  and  were  not  settled  or  were  decided  unjustly.  For 
this  purpose  they  often  need  the  testimony  of  persons 
still  living,  and  such  persons  immediately  die  in  order  to 
go  to  the  underworld  and  give  testimony.  This  is  a  com- 
mon explanation  when  a  number  of  persons  die  about  the 
same  time. 

I  like  the  Kruboy  so  well  and  I  admire  his  bravery  so 
much  that  I  am  reluctant  to  admit  his  glaring  deficiency 
of  morals,— that  he  lies,  steals,  commits  adultery,  and 
kills  his  neighbours  with  a  good-natured  or  perhaps 
stupid  indifference  to  right  and  wrong  scarcely  paralleled 
even  in  Africa. 

The  treatment  that  the  natives  receive  at  the  hands  of  the 
ship' s  officers  is  often  the  very  opposite  of  brave.  Many  of 
these  officers  are  pleasant  gentlemen.  Some  of  them  will 
later  be  captains,  and  as  a  rule  none  but  the  best  ever 
reach  that  position.  The  captains  of  the  coast  steamers 
are  a  fine  class  of  men  and  delightful  to  travel  with.  I 
have  never  witnessed  cruelty  on  their  part  towards  the 
natives ;  though  I  have  sometimes  wondered  that  they 
did  not  interfere  and  restrain  the  angry  passions  of  their 
officers.  Yet,  it  must  be  added  that  the  officers  have  not 
so  much  need  of  restraint  when  the  captain  is  standing  by. 

Not  to  touch  upon  the  doubtful  propriety  of  swearing 
under  any  circumstances ;  no  one  but  a  fool  will  habitu- 
ally swear  at  a  Kruboy.  For  the  Kruboy  is  as  indiffer- 


180        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ent  to  a  curse  as  to  a  blessing,  and  thus  it  reacts  upon  the 
man  himself,  exasperating  him  and  putting  him  into  such 
a  rage  as  to  threaten  him  with  a  fit  of  apoplexy  or  at  least 
a,  brain- storm.  The  cursing  of  one  or  another  of  the 
officers  at  the  Kruboys  is  both  loud  and  continuous,  and 
if  it  should  suddenly  cease  one  might  be  justified  in  sup- 
posing that  the  ship  had  sprung  a  leak  and  was  about  to 
go  to  the  bottom  and  the  officers  to  certain  death. 

On  the  homeward  voyage  there  are  always,  among  the 
deck-passengers,  a  number  of  Accra  or  Lagos  men  who 
have  been  working  on  the  south  coast  and  are  returning 
home  with  their  pay,  a  large  portion  of  which  is  in  the 
shape  of  various  goods.  There  is  no  harbour  in  either  of 
these  places  and  the  steamer  anchors  far  out,  in  rough 
water,  the  passengers  going  ashore  in  boats.  Some 
officers  when  in  charge  of  native  passengers  are  careful  of 
their  baggage  ;  but  occasionally — and  not  seldom — it  is 
flung  down  into  the  boat  below  without  the  slightest  care 
and  even  with  the  apparent  intention  of  causing  as  much 
breakage  and  other  damage  as  possible.  The  officer 
casts  an  occasional  glance  towards  the  upper  deck,  quite 
sure  that  the  white  passengers  are  enjoying  the  joke. 
But  he  is  mistaken  :  both  the  missionary  and  the  trader 
are  indignant.  For  they  both  know  the  native  better 
than  he  does,  and  they  also  know  that  those  goods  were 
earned  by  the  hard  labour  of  at  least  a  year,  and  perhaps 
three  years,  during  which  time  he  has  not  seen  his  home  or 
his  friends.  And  only  those  who  know  them  intimately 
can  understand  this  sacrifice  ;  for  the  African  can  die  of 
homesickness. 

It  is  in  accord  with  native  etiquette  that  these  men 
coming  home  should  arrive  very  much  dressed,  in  new 
clothes,  starched  linen  and  infinite  jewelry.  This  dress- 
ing is  done  on  the  open  deck  and  occupies  sometimes  the 
entire  day  before  the  arrival,  to  the  delight  of  the  white 


THE  KRUBOYS  181 

passengers,  who  also  give  much  kindly  and  gratuitous 
advice,  which  the  native  takes  in  good  part.  But  in 
spite  of  their  assistance  there  is  nearly  always  something 
a  little  "off"  in  the  completed  toilet.  One  individual, 
grandly  dressed,  had  his  new  shoes  on  the  wrong  feet. 
They  had  been  made  on  a  very  crooked  last  and  the  ef- 
fect was  more  grotesque  than  one  would  suppose.  He 
looked  as  if  he  expected  to  walk  with  his  legs  crossed. 
Well,  we  may  enjoy  all  this  with  very  kindly  feelings  to- 
wards the  native.  But  the  fun  is  all  spoiled  when  the 
ship's  officer  perpetrates  a  practical  joke  apparently  for 
our  amusement.  These  passengers,  men  and  women,  in 
places  where  the  sea  is  rough,  are  lowered  into  the  boat 
by  a  chair,  which  is  fastened  to  the  end  of  a  long  rope 
suspended  from  a  crane.  The  chair  looks  perfectly  safe 
and  comfortable  as  it  sits  on  the  deck.  The  native  gets 
into  it  without  hesitation.  The  rope  is  then  drawn  up  by 
the  crane  till  the  chair  is  raised  from  the  deck  and  goes 
swinging  out  over  the  bounding  main.  Its  occupant,  if 
it  be  a  woman  with  a  baby,  for  instance,  screams  with 
fright,  arid  perhaps  as  the  chair  moves  off  flings  her  baby 
back  on  the  deck,  trusting  to  Providence  for  its  landing ; 
but  the  African  baby  leads  a  charmed  life.  Meanwhile 
the  woman  shuts  her  eyes  and  resigns  herself  to  her  fate. 
The  chair  is  lowered  to  the  boat  below,  and  if  the  sea  be 
rough  and  the  boat  heaving  and  tossing  there  is  a  very 
dangerous  moment  as  the  chair  first  comes  in  contact 
with  it.  The  women  are  always  lowered  with  care.  But 
in  lowering  these  much-dressed  men— usually  several  at 
once — the  officer  in  charge  frequently  makes  it  a  point  to 
"  capsize  "  them,  by  letting  the  chair  come  down  on  the 
gunwale  of  the  surf-boat,  or  on  a  thwart,  so  as  to  spill 
the  occupants  into  the  boat  and  into  the  six  inches  of 
very  dirty  water  in  the  bottom  of  it,  head  first,  or  on  their 
backs.  Not  to  speak  of  the  bruised  and  bleeding  condi- 


182        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

tion  which  sometimes  results  from  this  treatment,  the 
native's  toilet  is  deranged,  his  clothes  perhaps  torn,  and 
he  goes  ashore  in  woeful  dishabille.  No  one  enjoys  this 
joke  but  the  officer  himself. 

At  Lagos,  on  the  homeward  voyage,  in  these  late  years 
natives  come  on  board  with  large  basket-coops  of 
chickens  which  they  take  to  Sekondi  and  sell  to  the 
white  men  connected  with  the  mines.  In  each  of  these 
baskets  there  are  three  or  four  dozen  chickens,  which 
will  sell  for  three  shillings  each  ;  and  surely  this  is  an  in- 
dustry that  ought  to  receive  every  encouragement.  It  is 
good  for  the  natives  and  good  for  the  miners.  Yet,  on 
certain  steamers,  such  is  the  carelessness  in  loading  them 
that  sometimes  not  half  the  chickens  reach  Sekondi 
alive.  There  is  not  the  least  necessity  for  this  large  loss, 
nor  for  any  loss.  One  day  a  trader  of  Fernando  Po  and 
I  standing  together  watched  a  native,  who  had  just  come 
on  board  with  his  chickens,  while  he  took  out  of  one 
basket  sixteen  dead  ones,  exactly  a  third  of  the  whole 
number,  and  he  probably  lost  as  many  in  landing  them. 
We  both  thought  that  if  the  owner  had  been  a  white 
man  in  all  probability  not  a  chicken  would  have  been 
lost. 

The  Kruboys  are  divided  into  deck-boys  and  boat- 
boys.  The  more  intelligent  and  experienced  of  the  deck- 
boys  run  the  steam- winches  and  cranes,  used  in  raising 
cargo  from  the  hold,  and  in  loading  and  stowing.  Above 
the  unceasing  and  relentless  creaking  of  these  three  or 
four  machines  is  heard  the  loud  voice  of  one  or  several 
natives  who  stand  at  the  open  hatches  and  transmit  orders 
from  those  in  the  hold  below  to  those  at  the  machines,  the 
orders  being  always  accompanied  by  appropriate  gestures, 
which  are  also  signals,  so  well  understood  that  words 
would  not  be  necessary  for  the  common  orders.  Those  at 
the  hatches  repeat  from  early  morning  till  late  at  night 


THE  KRUBOYS  183 

the  following  calls  :  '  '  Heave  a  link — half  a  link — half 
a  link — lower  away.  Lower  a  link — half  a  link — lower  a 
link— heave  away."  Except  between  ports  this  goes  on 
incessantly  above  the  noise  of  the  several  winches.  On 
one  occasion  when  I  had  been  feeling  miserable  for 
several  days  I  said  to  the  captain  :  "If  ever  I  go  mad  I 
am  sure  I  shall  go  on  saying  as  long  as  I  live  :  i  Half  a 
link — half  a  link — heave  away.'  "  The  captain  replied  : 
"That  is  precisely  the  end  to  which  I  myself  am  looking 
forward."  But  when  I  am  well  I  never  weary  of  watch- 
ing them  at  work.  ) 

A  great  variety  of  cargo  is  discharged,  but  more  salt 
and  gin  than  anything  else.  We  take  on  rubber,  ivory, 
mahogany,  ebony,  camwood,  palm-oil  and  kernels.  The 
palm-oil  and  kernels  are  used  for  the  manufacture  of  soap 
and  candles.  The  camwood,  also  called  barwood,  was 
more  in  demand  before  the  use  of  analine  dyes,  but  is 
still  used  in  dyeing  bandannas. 

But  the  work  of  loading  mahogany  is  of  greatest  inter- 
est to  the  passengers.  At  Gaboon  many  hundreds  of 
these  logs  are  always  lying  on  the  beach  (or  "in"  the 
beach,  as  the  disgusted  captain  frequently  reports) 
awaiting  shipment.  African  mahogany  in  these  days  is 
being  shipped  even  to  America  where  it  is  used  for  furni- 
ture. It  is  not  nearly  so  valuable  as  the  mahogany  of 
Cuba  and  South  America.  But  when  it  is  figured  with 
the  "  roe  "  it  brings  an  enormous  price.  The  roe  of  the 
mahogany  is  formed  in  the  grain  by  one  ring  overlapping 
the  other,  making  mottled  ringlets  of  light  and  shade, 
sometimes  very  pronounced  and  exquisitely  beautiful. 
Only  those  trees  are  cut  which  are  close  to  the  river,  for 
the  native  has  no  mechanical  means  of  transporting  it  and 
no  mechanical  aptitude  to  invent  such  means.  They  cut 
it  into  logs,  about  twenty  feet  long,  the  average  diameter 
being  three  feet.  Such  a  log  weighs  about  a  ton  and 


184        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

sometimes  much  more.  They  slide  the  logs  down  into 
the  river  on  improvised  rollers.  Then  in  one  or  several 
canoes  they  tow  from  two  to  eight  logs  at  a  time  to  the 
coast  where  they  are  sold  to  the  white  trader  for  about 
five  dollars  each,  in  goods.  This  is  the  average  value  at 
Gaboon.  The  trader  puts  the  house-mark  on  them  and 
then  leaves  them  on  the  beach  until  they  are  shipped. 
At  high  tide  most  of  them  are  afloat  but  they  cannot  drift 
away,  as  the  waves  are  stronger  than  the  current  and 
drive  them  back  on  the  beach.  The  German  traders 
usually  have  their  logs  squared  before  shipping  whereby 
much  is  saved  on  the  freight  to  Europe.  But  others  say 
that  it  costs  more  to  have  them  squared  by  the  native 
using  an  adz  than  to  pay  the  extra  freight  and  have  them 
squared  in  the  mills  of  Europe. 

The  Kruboys  are  sent  ashore  from  the  ship  to  raft  the 
logs,  having  first  rolled  them  down  the  beach  or  dug 
them  out  of  it.  A  spike  with  a  ring  attached,  called  a 
dog,  is  driven  into  an  end  of  each  log,  through  which  a 
rope  is  passed.  Then  they  are  towed,  ten  or  twelve  at  a 
time,  to  the  steamer,  usually  anchored  half  a  mile,  or  even 
a  mile  from  the  shore.  The  Kruboys  with  surf-boats  and 
paddles  tow  them  well  away  from  the  shore  and  then  they 
are  taken  by  the  steam  launch,  if  the  launch  happens  to 
be  in  order,  which  is  once  in  a  while.  It  is  only  in  late 
years  that  the  English  steamers  have  carried  launches. 
The  first  of  these  were  evidently  such  as  had  been  dis- 
carded by  more  favoured  lines.  They  had  ways  past 
finding  out.  One  of  these,  from  its  characteristic  habit, 
a  trader  named  the  Sudden  Jerk,  following  native  custom. 
Another  which  was  sound  only  in  the  whistle  I  named  the 
Piercing  Scream. 

The  work  of  unbeaching  the  logs  and  towing  them  to 
the  steamer  is  very  hard,  but  the  danger  and  the  excite- 
ment is  in  getting  them  loaded  and  stowed.  They  are 


THE  KRUBOYS  185 

made  fast  at  the  ship's  side.  Several  of  the  Kruboys  re- 
main in  the  water.  They  first  knock  the  "dog"  out  of 
the  last  log  ;  then  they  pass  a  chain  around  it  which  is 
made  fast  to  the  steel  cable  of  the  deck-winch.  A  signal, 
always  accompanied  by  a  shout,  is  passed  up  to  one  on 
deck  who  transmits  it  to  the  man  at  the  winch  and  the 
log  is  lifted  out  of  the  water.  The  Kruboy  rises  with  it  a 
part  of  the  way,  then  leaps  into  the  water  and  prepares  the 
next  log.  This  may  not  seem  so  very  difficult  to  men  who 
are  as  much  at  home  in  the  water  as  on  shore.  But  these 
logs  weighing  a  ton  each  are  all  the  while  dashing  against 
each  other  or  against  the  ship's  side  with  a  deep  boom  that 
echoes  through  the  ship.  They  are  pitching  and  tossing 
and  spinning,  while  the  Kruboy  tries  to  balance  himself 
on  top,  keeps  his  eye  on  every  log  that  is  near,  and  at  the 
same  time  does  his  work.  But  however  it  pitches  and 
plunges  he  rides  it  as  easily  as  a  cowboy  rides  a  pitching 
broncho.  At  first  I  looked  on  not  only  with  interest,  as 
always,  but  with  a  horrible  fascination  that  I  had  never 
before  experienced.  All  the  passengers,  from  the  upper 
deck,  are  watching  the  Kruboy  lying  across  a  log  that 
heaves  and  rolls  while  he  passes  the  chain  beneath  it,  and 
at  that  moment  another  log  is  driven  towards  it  with  its 
full  ton  weight,  the  two  colliding  broadside.  The  passen- 
gers shout ;  if  there  is  a  lady  aboard  she  screams.  But 
somehow,  when  those  logs  meet,  the  Kruboy  is  not  be- 
tween them.  He  is  underneath,  and  quite  out  of  sight. 
At  last  he  comes  up  somewhere,  and  shaking  the  water 
from  his  woolly  head,  looks  up  with  a  smile  full  of  white 
teeth  and  says  :  "  He  nebber  catch  me."  And  this  goes 
on  all  day  long,  whenever  logs  are  loaded.  Occasionally 
an  arm  is  broken,  more  often  a  leg,  and  sometimes  a  life 
is  lost. 

When  the  log  is  raised  to  the  height  of  the  lower  deck 
it  is  passed  from  one  spar  to  another  which  is  over  the 


186        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

hatch,  and  sweeps  across  the  deck,  all  the  Kruboys  at  the 
same  moment  shouting  for  everybody  to  get  out  of  the 
way  ;  but  no  time  is  lost  in  waiting  for  them  to  obey  the 
order.  They  dodge  skillfully,  however  j  for  one  is  always 
dodging  something  in  Africa,  and  there  is  seldom  any 
accident.  But  terrible  accidents  have  sometimes  occurred 
down  in  the  hold,  during  the  hard  work  of  stowing  the 
logs  so  that  every  cubic  foot  of  space  may  be  occupied. 
I  have  also  seen  the  steel  cable  break  when  a  log  weighing 
nearly  two  tons  was  suspended  over  the  hatch.  One 
thinks,  of  course,  that  all  the  Kruboys  down  in  that  dark 
hold  are  directly  under  the  falling  log,  which  is  never  the 
case,  and  the  volume  of  vocal  noise  which  ascends  im- 
mediately afterwards  is  a  great  relief  to  the  blood-curdled 
feelings  of  the  spectator,  for  it  indicates  that  nobody  is 
missing.  But  the  fright  extends  beyond  one's  solicitude 
for  the  Kruboys.  For  it  looks  as  if  that  log  would  plunge 
right  through  the  bottom  of  the  ship.  One  will  discover, 
however,  that  it  fell  upon  a  bed  of  several  logs  carefully 
placed  there  against  such  an  accident. 

But  I  have  not  yet  told  of  the  hardest  and  the  bravest 
work  of  the  Kruboy,  a  work  for  which  few  men  anywhere 
in  the  world  would  have  sufficient  daring,  namely,  his 
lauding  of  cargo  through  the  surf  in  the  season  of  the 
1 '  calemma, ' '  or  great  wave  of  the  southwest  coast.  Twice 
I  have  gone  far  south  of  Gaboon  when  the  sea  was  at  the 
worst.  Once  I  went  as  far  as  Benguela,  in  Angola,  and 
again  I  visited  the  Congo.  On  the  latter  journey  I  was 
nearly  five  weeks  on  shipboard. 

The  boat-boys  are  divided  into  crews  according  to  the 
number  of  surf-boats  in  use.  In  a  good  sea  a  crew 
usually  consists  of  seven  men,  six  of  whom  use  paddles, 
while  the  seventh,  the  headman,  stands  erect  in  the  stern 
of  the  boat  and  steers  with  an  oar  attached  to  the  stern. 
In  a  rough  sea  fewer  boats  are  lowered  and  the  crew  is 


THE  KRUBOYS  187 

increased  to  as  many  as  thirteen  men.  However  long  the 
day's  work  or  hard  the  battle  with  the  sea,  they  sing  to 
the  last  stroke,  keeping  time  with  their  paddles  to  one  of 
their  strange,  wild  boat- songs.  Sometimes  the  song  has 
only  rhythm  and  no  melody,  being  a  monotonous  repeti- 
tion of  several  notes :  u  So  sah,  so  sooh,  so  sah,  so  sooh, 
so  sah,  so  sooh,  ad — zh !  So  sah,  so  sooh,"  etc.  The 
man  who  sings  at  his  work  will  do  more  work  in  a  given 
time  and  do  it  better.  Not  that  the  African  is  always  a 
great  worker.  He  is  seldom  that ;  but  he  does  more 
work  singing  than  he  would  do  not  singing.  And  he 
sings  because,  however  wronged  and  oppressed,  there  is 
a  freedom  within  him  which  the  white  man  can  never 
take  away  ;  a  lightness  of  heart,  a  buoyancy  of  spirit  in- 
tractable to  tyranny. 

West  Africa  is  notorious  in  all  the  world  for  its  paucity 
of  harbours,  and  its  heavy  surf,  which  at  certain  seasons 
rages  like  a  battle,  the  roar  of  it  like  many  voices  defy- 
ing the  white  man  that  would  approach  its  shores.  The 
surf  at  one  place  where  we  called  was  so  bad  that  we  were 
seven  days  discharging  one  day's  cargo.  The  sea  rolled 
in  with  a  tremendous  swell — the  calemma — like  a  wall  of 
water  that  looked  three  stories  high,  which,  as  it  ap- 
proached the  land,  burst  into  a  succession  of  breakers 
that  raced  towards  the  shore,  and  striking  wjth  the  boom 
of  cannon,  tossed  the  white  surf  high  into  the  air.  One 
always  feels,  in  going  through  it,  that  he  is  fighting  a 
personal  foe ;  there  is  even  something  human  in  the  sound 
of  it.  The  Kruboy  says  it  is  full  of  spirits.  Savage 
spirits,  they  must  be,  and  drunken,  which  leap  and 
tumble  and  shout  in  mad  carousal. 

At  each  place  the  first  venture  in  the  surf-boats  was 
watched  eagerly  from  the  ship.  Three  or  four  boats  set 
out  together  with  a  light  cargo.  Near  the  surf  they  stop, 
landing  one  at  a  time,  and  waiting  for  the  right  moment. 


188        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

They  wait  perhaps  as  long  as  half  an  hour.  Then,  in  the 
first  boat,  at  the  word  of  the  headman,  they  throw  their 
weight  on  the  paddles  and  pull  for  their  lives,  not  look- 
ing to  either  side,  nor  speaking  a  word.  Now  they  are 
in  the  breakers,  borne  forward  upon  the  racing  waves 
with  violent  speed,  a  roaring  monster  before  them  and 
another  more  ferocious  one  pursuing.  At  this  moment 
the  safety  of  all  depends  upon  the  skill  of  the  headman 
in  keeping  the  boat  placed  right  to  the  wave.  And  in 
any  case,  if  the  boat,  upon  reaching  the  beach,  strike  the 
ground  at  a  moment  when  the  water  has  receded,  the 
breaker  following  will  be  upon  it  before  they  can  drag  it 
up  the  beach,  and  catching  it  up  will  perhaps  stand  it 
straight  on  end,  and  hurl  it  backward  upon  the  beach  ; 
or,  if  it  be  not  straight  to  the  wave,  it  will  be  whirled 
about  and  flung  up  the  beach,  rolling  over  and  over,  with 
all  its  freight  of  boxes  and  barrels,  the  boys  escaping  I 
know  not  how — but  not  always  escaping. 

One  day  when  the  beach  seemed  much  better  than 
usual,  the  captain  and  the  ship's  surgeon  ventured  ashore. 
The  purpose  of  the  captain  was  probably  to  visit  the 
shippers  with  the  object  of  drumming  up  trade,  as  cap- 
tains are  obliged  to  do  on  the  coast.  For  this  purpose  he 
makes  a  very  friendly  call  on  each  trader,  listens  to  his 
graphaphone,  and  even  praises  it.  He  was  brave  to  risk 
the  surf,  but  he  took  the  doctor.  The  captain  afterwards 
narrated  the  adventure  of  their  landing  to  a  small  but  en- 
thusiastic audience.  He  said  that  after  waiting  outside 
the  surf  half  an  hour,  the  headman  suddenly  gave  the 
order,  and  in  a  moment  they  were  in  the  breakers,  rid- 
ing on  the  top  of  one  of  them,  and  speeding  towards  the 
shore  at  the  rate  of  "  seventy  miles  an  hour,"  which  cal- 
culation was  merely  his  sensation  expressed  in  terms  of 
linear  measure.  The  captain  was  in  the  bow  of  the  boat 
well  braced  and  cushioned.  But  when  the  boat  struck 


THE  KRUBOYS  189 

the  beach  with  the  force  of  a  railway  collision,  the  elector 
was  thrown  violently  over  two  thwarts  into  the  captain's 
bosorn,  whom  he  clasped  about  the  neck  with  a  steel -like 
grip.  The  next  moment  another  breaker  picked  the  boat 
up  and  hurled  it  upon  the  beach,  throwing  both  captain 
and  doctor  to  a  perfectly  safe  distance  where  they 
sprawled  upon  the  sand.  The  doctor,  still  hugging  the 
captain's  neck,  and  very  much  frightened,  exclaimed : 
"O  Captain,  dear  Captain,  is  there  anybody  killed  but 
you  and  me  ? ' ' 

But  now  it  is  evening,  at  the  close  of  a  bad  day.  No 
white  man  has  ventured  ashore  these  ten  days.  But  the 
Kruboys  have  gone,  and  there  on  the  beach  is  a  boat 
making  a  last  attempt  to  come  off.  The  sea  has  been  get- 
ting worse  all  day,  and  it  is  now  like  a  boiling  caldron. 
They  have  been  there  for  hours,  and  have  tried  again  and 
again  to  get  off,  but  have  failed,  though  they  have  no 
cargo,  and  they  are  the  best  crew  and  have  the  best  head- 
man of  all.  Several  times  they  have  been  thrown  back 
on  the  beach,  and  once  the  boat  was  capsized  when 
nearly  through  the  breakers  ;  now  they  are  making  a  last 
effort. 

They  stand  around  the  boat,  their  weight  against  it, 
alert,  and  waiting  in  eager  attention  for  the  word  of  com- 
mand. A  shout  from  the  headman,  and  in  a  moment 
they  have  pushed  the  big  boat  out  into  the  water,  have 
leaped  into  it,  grasped  the  paddles,  and  are  pulling  like 
mad.  The  first  breaker  strikes  the  boat  a  blow  that 
staggers  it :  the  spirits  must  have  been  very  angry. 
They  are  through  it ;  but  the  boat  is  nearly  half  full  of 
water  and  is  not  straight.  The  headman  throws  himself 
upon  the  oar,  but  alas  !  with  such  force  that  the  becket 
attaching  it  to  the  stern  is  wrenched  off.  They  are  now 
at  the  mercy  of  the  next  breaker,  a  fearful  one,  which 
sweeps  them '  ashore  with  violence,  whirling  the  boat 


190        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

round,  and  then  rolling  it  over  and  over  upon  the  beach. 
As  the  water  recedes  we  see  them  lying  scattered  at  ran- 
dom upon  the  sand.  They  get  up  slowly  as  if  half  dazed  ; 
and  one  of  them  lies  unconscious  as  the  next  wave  washes 
over  him,  matting  his  hair  with  the  wet  sand.  And 
there  lies  the  brave  headman  badly  bruised,  the  flesh 
torn  from  his  leg,  exposing  the  bone  from  the  knee  down. 
But  one  poor  boy  has  fought  his  last  fight  with  the  wild 
sea.  Many  fights  he  has  won,  but  the  spirits  have  beaten 
him  this  time.  "  Oh,  boys,"  he  says,  "I'm  hurt.  I 
can't  get  up.  I  can't  even  move.  I'm  afraid  my  back 
is  broken." 

So  it  was  indeed  :  his  back  was  broken.  Late  in  the 
night  he  died,  the  other  boys  sobbing  like  children  as 
they  stood  around  him.  Next  day  they  buried  him  ;  and 
that  evening  they  got  off  to  the  ship.  As  they  approached , 
the  wind  wafted  to  us  the  sound  of  a  native  dirge,  weird 
and  plaintive,  which  they  were  chanting  for  their  dead 
brother. 

I  feel  bound  to  tell  the  sequel  of  this  incident.  The 
next  day  the  sea  was  so  bad  that  it  seemed  useless  and 
foolish  to  attempt  to  land.  The  boys  presented  them- 
selves in  a  body  before  a  certain  one  of  the  officers  and 
said  :  "  Mastah,  them  sea  he  be  bad  too  much.  We  no 
be  fit  for  land  cargo.  S'pose  we  try,  we  go  loss  all  cargo, 
and  plenty  man's  life.  So  please  excuse  to-day,  Mastah  ; 
for  we  think  to-morrow  go  be  fine." 

The  answer  they  received  was  a  volley  of  profanity  and 
curses.  "  Just  because  one  of  them  was  killed  they  all 
turn  cowards,"  said  one.  "Always  thinking  of  them- 
selves !  "  said  another.  With  many  such  shrewd  obser- 
vations, and  sundry  moral  exhortations  to  bravery,  the 
boats  were  lowered  and  they  were  ordered  into  them. 

But  on  these  same  steamers  there  are  brave  men  and 
kind-hearted.  On  this  particular  morning  the  purser 


THE  KRUBOYS  191 

boldly  protested.  "If  they  are  cowards,"  said  he, 
"what  are  we?  For  notwithstanding  the  demands  of 
business,  not  one  of  us  has  ventured  ashore  for  many  days. 
I'm  no  coward  myself,"  he  continued,  "but  I  confess 
that  those  boys  put  my  bravery  to  shame.  They  are  the 
bravest  boys  in  the  world.  Neither  do  I  believe  that  they 
are  bound  to  risk  their  lives  in  such  a  sea  as  this  for  a 
shilling  a  day." 

While  he  was  speaking  some  one  shouted:  "There 
goes  the  first  boat." 

We  ran  to  the  side  just  in  time  to  see  the  boat  borne 
down  by  the  first  breaker,  whirled  around  and  capsized, 
the  boys  struggling  for  their  lives,  not  only  with  a  furious 
sea,  but  with  heavy  boxes  and  casks  and  the  boat  itself, 
all  tossed  to  and  fro  in  the  surging  waters.  They  escaped 
without  serious  injury  ;  but  no  white  man  could  have  es- 
caped. About  the  same  time,  a  few  miles  up  the  coast, 
a  steamer  had  one  of  its  strong  surf-boats  flung  upon  the 
beach  with  such  violence  that  it  was  broken  in  two  across 
the  middle.  Another  steamer  had  two  boys  killed. 

One  day  our  boys  went  ashore  early  in  the  morning, 
leaving  the  ship  at  half-past  five.  They  were  expecting  to 
make  the  first  trip  before  breakfast,  as  usual,  and  therefore 
had  nothing  to  eat  before  starting.  They  had  landed  the 
cargo  safely  at  the  trading-house  ;  but  the  sea  was  so  bad 
that  they  could  not  get  off  to  the  ship  all  that  day. 
They  made  several  unsuccessful  attempts,  and  it  was  al- 
most night  when  at  last  they  succeeded.  Meanwhile,  the 
swell  had  become  so  heavy  that  we  had  steamed  far  out 
for  safety,  and  were  anchored  seven  miles  from  the  shore. 
The  boys  reached  the  ship  after  dark,  and  we  then  learned 
that  the  white  trader  ashore  had  given  them  nothing  to 
eat ;  although  the  ship  would  have  repaid  him.  Those 
boys  had  battled  with  the  sea  weak  with  hunger,  not 
having  had  a  taste  of  food  all  that  day.  It  is  only  fair  to 


192        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

say  that  on  the  steamers  they  are  well  fed.  There  are 
but  very  few  English  traders  who  would  do  as  that  man 
did ;  though  there  are  many  such  men  of  other  national- 
ities. 

Only  a  short  time  afterwards,  one  evening  at  the  table, 
an  officer  who  had  been  ashore  told  us  a  story  that  was 
intended  to  prove  the  cruelty  of  the  native.  A  white 
trader,  he  said,  had  caught  a  young  elephant.  He  went 
away  on  a  journey  to  the  bush,  leaving  the  care  of  it  to 
his  native  workmen.  Upon  his  return,  after  several 
months,  he  found  the  elephant  in  very  poor  health  ;  and 
a  few  weeks  later  it  died.  There  was  no  doubt  that  the 
natives  had  neglected  to  feed  it  in  his  absence,  and  this 
was  the  cause  of  its  death.  Horrible  cruelty  of  the 
beastly  native !  Pungent  remarks,  appropriate  to  the 
occasion,  were  contributed  all  around  the  table.  For  my- 
self— I  was  thinking  of  those  starved  and  tired  boys  bat- 
tling with  a  raging  sea.  But  I  said  not  a  word.  What 
would  be  the  use  ? 

We  need  not  be  sentimental  about  the  native's  wrongs. 
Though  a  victim,  he  is  not  necessarily  innocent.  He 
would  do  unto  others  as  others  do  unto  him  ;  and  his  life 
is  perhaps  not  rendered  more  miserable  by  the  white  man 
than  it  was  before.  But,  then,  they  are  savages  and  we 
are  supposed  to  be  civilized  ;  and  the  most  wretched  ex- 
cuse that  the  white  man  can  give  for  his  cruelty  is  that 
he  is  only  imitating  the  natives  themselves.  The  white 
man  is  always  calling  the  native  a  devil,  and  always  ex- 
pecting him  to  act  like  an  angel,  while  he  himself,  so  far 
from  being  angelic,  sets  an  infernal  example. 

The  truth  is  that  the  white  man  in  the  tropics  is  out  of 
his  element  as  much  as  the  diver  who  works  in  the  deep 
sea.  The  atmosphere  in  which  he  was  produced  and  in 
which  he  developed — the  mental,  moral,  social  and  phys- 
ical conditions — are  also  necessary  to  his  moral  and 


THE  KRUBOYS  193 

physical  maintenance.  The  climate  weakens  and  de- 
presses him,  while  at  the  same  time  he  is  not  sustained 
by  domestic  cheer  and  the  society  of  equals  to  which  he 
has  been  accustomed.  He  is  invariably  nervous  and  as  a 
consequence  impatient,  while  at  the  same  time  the  cir- 
cumstauces  that  confront  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  daily 
duties  are  such  as  would  try  the  temper  of  a  saint.  If  he 
remain  long  in  a  climate  so  unnatural  to  him  and  in  a 
strange  and  uncivilized  society  the  likelihood  is  that  there 
will  be  an  imperceptible  and  unconscious  lowering  of 
moral  standards  and  accommodation  to  the  standards  of 
the  society  around  him.  Cruelty  which  at  first  shocked 
him  gradually  ceases  to  shock  and  at  length  he  becomes 
indifferent,  or  perhaps  himself  capable  of  barbarous  deeds 
from  which  he  would  at  first  have  recoiled  with  horror. 
For  the  men  of  whom  I  have  been  speaking  are  not  in- 
ferior to  the  average  man  at  home.  Your  virtues,  and 
the  graces  of  mind  and  character  upon  which  you  pride 
yourself — your  strength  and  composure,  your  patience 
and  devotion  to  duty,  your  honesty,  your  justice,  your 
purity — all  these  belong  not  only  to  yourself  but  to  the 
society  which  has  produced  you  and  of  which  you  are  a 
part.  The  moral  standards  which  it  has  erected  in  the 
course  of  its  social  evolution,  the  safety  with  which  it  has 
surrounded  you,  the  comforts  which  this  safety  has  made 
procurable,  the  disapprobation  by  which  it  punishes  any 
infraction  of  its  laws— to  these,  not  to  yourself  alone,  you 
owe  your  moral  attainments.  None  but  the  highest  and 
most  fixed  moral  standards  will  bear  transportation  to  a 
tropical  climate  and  tropical  society.  Until  this  fact  is 
clearly  recognized  the  relation  of  civilization  to  the  un- 
civilized tropics  is  likely  to  be  productive  of  misery  and 
shame.  If  I  did  not  hate  sensationalism  I  could  easily 
fill  this  chapter  with  a  record  of  the  misdeeds  and  bar- 
barities in  Africa  of  men,  many  of  whom  belonged  to 


194:   THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

respectable  families  and  to  good  society  and  were  well- 
behaved  at  home. 

Neither  does  the  white  man  become  acclimated  in  the 
tropics — no  more  than  the  diver  in  the  deep  sea.  The 
longer  he  remains,  his  physical  and  moral  resources  be- 
come the  more  exhausted.  Let  us  keep  these  facts  in 
mind  in  judging  those  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  and 
those  of  whom  we  have  yet  to  speak  in  the  next  chapter. 


WHITE  AND  BLACK 

"  Our  only  program,  I  am  anxious  to  repeat,  is  the  work  of  moral 
and  material  regeneration." — King  Leopold  12. 

"  The  work  of  civilization,  as  you  call  it,  is  an  enormous  and  con- 
tinual butchery. ' ' — M.  Lorand,  in  the  Belgian  Parliament. 

ST.  PAUL  DE  LO  AND  A,  in  the  Portuguese  colony 
of  Angola,  is  the  only  place  on  the  entire  west 
coast  of  Africa  that  looks  like  a  real  city.  It  is 
several  centuries  old,  and  from  the  sea  the  appearance  is 
not  unlike  the  Mediterranean  cities  of  North  Africa.  But 
as  soon  as  one  goes  ashore  this  illusion  is  dissolved. 
What  makes  it  unlike  any  other  settlement  on  the  west 
coast  is  chiefly  its  roofs  of  red  tile  instead  of  corrugated 
iron,  with  its  superheated  appearance,  that  is  used  in  all 
places  recently  built.  The  city  is  also  lighted  by  oil 
lamps.  The  harbour  being  one  of  the  best,  I  went  ashore 
with  the  captain  and  after  a  walk  about  the  town  we  played 
a  few  games  of  billiards  with  the  British  consul.  I  had 
then  been  several  years  on  the  coast  and  this  seemed  like 
a  brief  return  to  civilization.  The  night  coming  on 
brought  with  it  more  civilization .  A  native  band  played, 
by  ear,  two  or  three  tunes,  and  played  them,  well — con- 
sidering. It  is  said  that  they  have  played  those  same 
tunes  since  the  band  was  organized,  and  no  one  now  liv- 
ing remembers  when  that  was. 

A  mouldering  church,  Our  Lady  of  Salvation,  which 
stands  on  the  beach,  is  two  and  a  half  centuries  old,  and 
is  a  work  of  art,  containing  interesting  and  historical 

195 


196        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

scenes  in  blue  and  white  tiles.  From  this  place  in  the 
dark  age  of  slavery  thousands  of  slaves  were  shipped 
across  the  Atlantic  ;  and  the  Roman  Catholic  bishop  sat 
on  the  wharf  and  baptized  them,  not  individually,  but  in 
shiploads.  Surely  Our  Lady  of  Salvation  might  have  been 
called  Our  Lady  of  Sorrows. 

There  were  very  few  passengers  on  board,  but  there 
were  a  number  of  dogs.  The  captain  had  a  weakness  for 
dogs.  The  breed  of  the  dog  made  no  difference. 
Whether  they  were  useful  or  useless,  whether  sound  and 
healthy  or  dreadfully  diseased  and  scarcely  able  to  walk, 
he  loved  them  all  without  partiality  or  discrimination. 
Men  further  up  the  coast  who  had  European  dogs  that 
were  particularly  mangy  or  threatened  with  rabies  would 
give  them  into  the  captain's  care  and  he  would  take 
them  for  a  health-change  down  the  coast.  At  one  time 
there  were  nine  dogs  living  on  board.  He  never  seemed 
to  realize  that  in  this,  as  in  all  other  things,  tastes  differ  ; 
and  that  a  certain  dog,  an  English  mastiff,  as  ugly  as  the 
rest  of  its  kind,  might  not  be  entirely  welcome  to  share 
my  soup  at  the  table  just  because  it  was  welcome  to  his. 

There  were  two  fox-terriers  tied  together  with  five  or 
six  feet  of  small  rope  between  them.  As  their  health 
improved  these  two  terriers  became  animated  beyond  all 
control.  They  amused  themselves  by  pulling  down  cages 
full  of  parrots  for  the  delight  of  hearing  them  remonstrate 
in  a  prolonged  concert  of  harsh  squawking.  But  their 
chief  exercise  was  straight  running  at  breakneck  speed 
from  one  end  of  the  promenade  deck  to  the  other,  with 
six  feet  of  rope  stretched  taut  between  them,  to  the  terror 
of  the  passengers,  who  were  so  few  in  number  that  they 
were  regarded  as  a  negligible  quantity.  There  was  a  lady 
on  board  with  whom  I  occasionally  walked  until  the  ter- 
riers made  it  impossible  to  do  so  without  sacrificing  either 
comfort  or  gallantry.  At  the  sight  of  them  coming  to- 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  197 

wards  her,  like  a  whirlwind  sweeping  down  the  deck  and 
the  rope  threatening  to  trip  her  up,  the  lady's  energy  all 
went  to  her  hands  instead  of  her  feet ;  for  she  invariably 
lost  her  presence  of  mind  and  stood  still  wringing  her 
hands  instead  of  hastily  retreating  into  some  safe  corner. 
But  I  could  not  understand  why  she  should  think  that  I 
also  ought  to  lose  my  presence  of  mind  and  stand  still 
and  be  tripped  when  I  had  youth  and  fleetness  of  limb  to 
accomplish  an  escape. 

We  were  three  days  at  Benguela  during  which  we  wit- 
nessed the  Mardi  Gras  celebration.  Men,  women,  and 
children  filled  the  streets  with  merrymaking  and  pre- 
sented a  spectacle  of  fantastic  colours,  grotesque  costumes, 
and  uncouth  masks,  such  as  I  had  never  before  seen.  Our 
errand  to  Benguela  was  the  delivery  of  a  large  consign- 
ment of  supplies  for  the  newly  projected  railway  which, 
it  is  expected,  shall  ultimately  extend  far  inland  to  the 
region  of  Lake  Tanganyika,  thus  connecting  with  the 
traffic  of  the  east  coast.  The  bit  of  this  railway  already 
built  represents  what  Portugal  has  done  towards  the 
development  of  Africa  in  the  course  of  several  centuries. 

The  trading-houses  of  Benguela  are  surrounded  by 
walled  enclosures,  or  compounds,  in  former  days  used  for 
the  confinement  of  slaves  awaiting  shipment.  This  is  not 
like  the  bush  country  further  north,  but  is  more  open  and 
its  main  slave-trail  extends  a  thousand  miles  into  the  in- 
terior. This  is  the  end  of  the  trail  that  Livingstone  fol- 
lowed in  his  first  tragic  journey  across  Africa. 

But  that  which  ought  to  be  fully  known  to  the  civilized 
world  is  that  slavery  still  exists  in  the  whole  territory  of 
Angola  and  in  the  adjoining  Portuguese  islands,  and 
with  all  its  attendant  horrors.  Most  of  the  house-serv- 
ants and  factory-servants  of  Benguela  are  slaves  purchased 
with  money  and  frequently  resold.  Young  women  are  sold 
and  resold  by  white  men  to  white  men  as  mistresses.  Any 


198         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

white  man  in  Benguela  will  tell  one  that  the  average  price 
is  twenty  pounds.  She  may  be  resold  from  time  to  time 
at  a  decreasing  price.  The  work  on  the  large  plantations 
is  done  by  slaves  who  serve  under  the  lash,  and  it  is  es- 
timated that  half  the  population  of  Angola  are  in  slavery  ; 
some  would  say  more  than  this.  This  includes  domestic 
as  well  as  foreign  slavery.  But  the  traffic  by  the  Por- 
tuguese has  made  domestic  slavery  more  severe.  They 
were  also  being  shipped  from  Benguela  at  that  time,  to 
the  islands  of  San  Thome"  and  Principe,  at  the  rate  of 
three  or  four  thousand  a  year,  and  in  all  probability  the 
number  has  since  increased.  I  have  visited  Principe, 
and  I  know  something  of  the  actual  conditions  in  that 
island. 

The  ways  of  Portugal  have  not  changed  in  these  four 
centuries  of  her  African  history.  In  the  year  1509  a  Por- 
tuguese officer  landing  in  South  Africa  became  embroiled 
with  the  Hottentots  and  he  and  twenty  of  his  men  were 
killed.  Three  years  afterwards  a  Portuguese  captain 
landed  a  cannon  loaded  with  grapeshot  as  a  pretended 
present  to  the  Hottentots.  Men,  women  and  children 
gathered  around  in  wonder.  While  they  were  admiring 
it  the  Portuguese  captain  fired  it  off  and  looked  on  with 
delight  as  the  wretched  people  fell  in  heaps.  And  Por- 
tugal has  not  changed.  The  ally  of  England  from  time 
immemorial,  and  possessing  a  remarkable  collection  of 
souvenirs  in  the  form  of  ant! -slavery  treaties,  some  of 
them  recent  and  one  of  them  as  late  as  1885,  she  still  pros- 
ecutes her  slave-trade  with  vigour,  albeit  with  circum- 
spection to  her  reputation  as  well  as  her  profit. 

The  Bailundu  rebellion,  in  the  interior  of  Angola,  in 
1902,  was  still  an  occasional  topic  of  conversation.  The 
Portuguese  claimed  that  it  was  caused  by  the  few  Ameri- 
can missionaries  of  that  interior  district — as  if  their  own 
rapacity  and  lust  were  not  sufficient  explanation.  If  that 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  199 

be  true,  and  if  it  be  true  that  the  missionaries  are  respon- 
sible for  all  similar  wars  from  Angola  to  China,  as  their 
detractors  allege,  it  is  surely  evident  that  the  missionary 
influence  is  not  to  be  derided  after  all,  but  is  a  tremendous 
force  to  be  reckoned  with  in  national  economy.  The 
Bailundu  rebellion  was  a  complete  failure.  The  unorgan- 
ized native  forces  were  unable  to  stand  before  an  army 
disciplined  by  white  officers,  and  it  soon  developed  into 
a  wholesale  massacre  of  natives. 

Shortly  afterwards  a  missionary  from  that  part  spent  a 
day  with  me  at  Gaboon  and  recounted  many  incidents  of 
the  war.  Portuguese  planters  exacted  enormous  indemnity 
which  reduced  many  to  slavery.  Such  incidents  as  the 
following  occurred  :  A  certain  man,  in  order  to  pay  his 
portion  of  the  indemnity  exacted  by  a  certain  planter,  at 
last  was  compelled  to  sell  his  two  children  as  slaves.  He 
returned  to  his  village  with  desolate  heart  and  tearless 
eyes,  went  into  his  house,  came  out  again,  and  walked 
around  it,  went  into  it  again  and  came  out  with  his  sword, 
uttered  one  heart-broken  cry,  and  plunging  the  sword  into 
his  breast,  killed  himself. 

As  a  consequence  of  the  war,  however,  the  Angola 
secret  became  known  and  there  was  considerable  feeling 
aroused  among  the  better  class  in  Portugal.  To  their 
righteous  remonstrance  the  government  responded  by 
abolishing  the  name  of  slavery  and  prosecuting  the  traffic 
as  vigorously  as  ever  under  an  ingenious  and  particularly 
diabolical  form  of  law  called  *  '  labour  contract. ' y  The  only 
difference  to  the  native  is  that  while  formerly  his  servi- 
tude was  a  direct  violation  of  law  it  is  now  perfectly  legal ; 
but  he  is  still  seized  and  transported  and  labours  under 
the  lash  until  he  dies. 

In  1905,  Mr.  Henry  W.  Kevinson  went  to  Angola  for 
the  express  purpose  of  investigating  the  reported  slavery. 
Mr.  Nevinson  upon  a  careful  and  intelligent  investigation 


200        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

found  the  conditions  such  as  I  have  stated,  and  he  gave 
an  accurate  report  in  a  series  of  articles  in  Harper's 
Magazine. 

The  slave-merchant,  or  "  labour-merchant,"  as  we  must 
now  call  him,  procures  his  labourers  in  the  interior,  some- 
times six  hundred  or  eight  hundred  miles  from  the  coast. 
He  pays  for  them  in  rifles  and  other  goods.  The  price 
that  he  offers,  while  very  small,  considering  the  value  of 
a  slave  to  a  planter,  is  yet  sufficient  to  excite  the  cupidity 
of  a  class  of  natives  beyond  the  possibility  of  control. 
They  first  sell  their  domestic  slaves  to  the  white  men,  then 
they  sell  anybody  whom  they  can  get  into  their  power. 
In  the  old  slave  days  it  was  not  safe  for  three  men  to  go 
together  to  the  slave-market  lest  two  of  them  should  com- 
bine to  sell  the  third,  and  such  is  always  the  brutalizing 
effect  of  the  slave-trade  on  many  of  the  natives.  Those 
slaves  that  are  not  used  on  the  plantations  of  Angola  are 
marched  in  caravans  to  the  coast.  They  march  in 
shackles,  or  chained  together,  and  under  an  armed  guard. 
Many  die  on  the  way,  sometimes  half  the  caravan. 

Arriving  at  the  coast,  they  are  sold,  or  contracted,  to 
an  employer,  usually  a  planter  of  San  Thom6  or  Principe, 
at  a  large  advance  on  the  interior  price.  They  are  then 
brought  by  the  employer  before  a  magistrate  who  draws 
up  a  contract  in  proper  legal  form.  It  makes  not  the 
slightest  difference  what  the  native  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions asked  him  or  whether  he  answers  at  all,  a  contract 
is  drawn  up  in  which  he  declares  that  he  has  come  of  his 
own  free  will  to  contract  for  his  services  at  so  much  labour 
for  so  much  pay,  and  that  the  contract  holds  good  for  five 
years.  The  contractor  on  his  part  agrees  to  pay  a  certain 
monthly  wage  and  to  provide  food  and  clothing.  The 
native  is  given  a  copy  of  the  contract  and  a  little  tin 
cylinder  in  which  to  keep  it,  the  sign  and  declaration  of 
his  freedom  and  protection  by  law.  But  hypocrisy  can 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  201 

go  even  further ;  for  these  Portuguese,  merchants  and 
government  officials,  actually  pose  as  Philanthropists. 
"  See,'7  they  say,  "  what  we  have  done  for  these  men  and 
women.  They  were  all  slaves  to  black  men,  and  we  have 
redeemed  them."  Philanthropy  is  usually  unlucrative, 
but  the  genius  of  the  Portuguese  has  made  it  pay. 

Despite  the  expiration  of  the  contract  at  the  end  of  five 
years  and  the  promise  of  a  free  passage  home,  the  native 
thus  transported  is  never  known  to  return.  Henceforth 
he  is  one  of  a  long  line  of  men  and  women  that  labour  on 
the  cocoa  fields  all  the  day  long,  some  of  the  women  carry- 
ing babies  on  their  backs— that  labour  in  stolid  silence 
under  the  lash  or  the  prod  of  a  sharpened  stick  from 
early  morning  till  the  sound  of  the  evening  bell.  That 
they  become  debased  and  immoral  is  only  what  we  should 
expect ;  and  therefore  the  traffic  in  men's  bodies  is  also  a 
traffic  in  men's  souls.  So  they  live  and  toil,  each  day 
like  all  the  others  until  the  last  short  journey,  when,  as 
Mr.  Nevinson  describes,  "  their  dead  bodies  are  lashed 
to  poles  to  be  carried  out  and  flung  away  in  the  forest. ' ' 

But  is  there  no  relief  to  the  dark  picture  ?  No  com- 
pensation? Yes,  there  is  some  compensation.  We  get 
cheaper  cocoa  and  plenty  of  chocolate. 

The  people  of  the  United  States  have  a  deep  and  prac- 
tical interest  in  the  question  of  the  principles  that  ought 
to  regulate  the  relations  of  the  governing  and  the  gov- 
erned in  those  tropical  countries  that  are  under  the  do- 
minion of  the  various  civilized  powers.  Having  come 
into  possession  of  the  Philippine  Islands,  with  their  vast 
and  undeveloped  resources,  the  problem  is  their  own  and 
waits  for  solution.  Upon  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
because  of  the  serious  and  responsible  situation  with  which 
they  are  confronted,  may  devolve  the  task  of  devising  and 
administering  a  form  of  government  in  accord  with  the 
higher  modern  standard  of  English-speaking  people  in  re- 


202        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

gard  to  the  national  duty  involved  in  the  relation  of  a 
civilized  power  to  a  subj  ect  and  savage  people.  No  graver 
problem  is  likely  to  arise  in  the  course  of  the  entire  cen- 
tury of  which  we  are  still  on  the  threshold.  And  the 
United  States  is  the  better  prepared  for  her  task  by  the 
fact  that  she  is  uncontrolled  by  precedent  and  unbiased 
by  tradition. 

The  Portuguese  theory  of  tropical  control  is  evident 
enough.  The  acquired  possession  is  an  estate  to  be 
worked  for  the  benefit  of  those  in  control,  whose  right  is 
simply  "  might. "  Its  native  inhabitants,  who  have  the 
moral  right  to  its  possession,  are  counted  among  the 
various  resources  of  the  acquired  property,  and  may  be 
exploited  accordingly.  The  practical  sequences  of  this 
theory  are  slavery  and  plunder. 

The  theory  that  surrounds  the  colony  with  high  tariffs 
for  the  exclusive  benefit  of  the  governing  power  and 
which  concedes  foreign  monopolies  to  the  disregard  of 
native  interests,  is  not  essentially  different  from  that  of 
Portugal.  This  latter  is  the  theory  that  is  being  worked 
out  in  the  Congo  Fran9ais  as  a  result  of  the  example  and 
influence  of  the  Belgian  trusts,  and  the  intrigues  of  King 
Leopold's  agents  in  France.  We  believe  that  it  cannot 
be  permanent  as  a  form  of  French  colonial  government 
because  of  the  humane  and  generous  instincts  of  the 
French  people.  And  it  is  certain  that  such  a  policy 
could  not  long  endure  in  any  territory  under  the  control 
of  the  United  States.  For  a  policy  in  order  to  be  perma- 
nent must  have  the  support  of  the  moral  sentiment  of  the 
nation,  and  such  a  policy  traverses  our  basal  doctrine  of 
the  native  equality  of  men. 

But  there  is  in  the  United  States  a  tendency  to  the  other 
extreme,  namely,  to  insist  upon  the  native  right  of  self- 
government,  holding  that  the  sum  of  our  duty  is  to  set  up 
a  civilized  form  of  government  and  then  withdraw  from 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  203 

control,  leaving  the  native  nation  to  maintain  it.  The 
advocates  of  such  a  policy  are  gnilty  of  a  serious  over- 
sight in  forgetting  that  "  democracy  is  not  simply  a  form 
of  government,  but  a  state  of  human  evolution."  The 
native  form  of  government  cannot  advance  far  beyond  the 
social  life  of  the  people,  for  they  are  sustained  by  the  same 
moral  forces.  As  a  matter  of  fact  there  is  not  in  the  world 
a  single  example  of  a  successful  native  government  of  a 
tropical  country.  Failures  are  conspicuous  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic  ;  for  instance,  Hayti  in  the  West  Indies 
and  Liberia  in  Africa.  The  tropical  governments  of 
Central  and  South  America  are  not  in  any  sense  native 
governments,  but  are  administered  by  a  permanently  resi- 
dent foreign  community,  in  their  own  interest,  whose 
moral  standards  tend  to  lower  more  and  more  as  they 
mingle  with  the  native  populations.  A  form  of  native 
government  that  would  compare  with  those  of  civilized 
nations  is  by  no  means  possible  until  the  moral  forces 
that  have  contributed  to  the  highest  civilization  are 
operative  in  their  social  life. 

It  is  evident  that  the  tropical  nations  if  left  to  them- 
selves will  not  develop  the  resources  of  their  country. 
But  it  is  equally  evident  that  the  civilized  world  will  not, 
and  ought  not,  to  leave  these  resources  undeveloped. 
For  civilization  depends  upon  the  tropics  for  many  trade 
products,  including  india-rubber,  and  the  dependence  in- 
creases at  such  a  rate  that  it  is  predicted  that  the  main 
lines  of  commerce  in  the  future  will  run  north  and  south 
instead  of  east  and  west,  and  the  prediction  is  not  fanciful. 

It  would  seem  therefore  that  the  development  of  the 
resources  of  the  tropics  will  be  by  the  native  under  the 
supervision  of  the  white  man.  The  ideal  government 
will  be  based  upon  the  clear  recognition  of  mutual  need 
and  mutual  benefit ;  and  the  principle  that  will  mould 
the  form  of  government  and  be  constantly  operative  in 


204        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

its  administration  will  be  the  duty  of  the  civilized  nation 
to  bring  to  the  uncivilized  its  best  benefits,  to  their 
mutual  advantage.  The  interest  of  the  native  race  will 
be  always  the  first  consideration ;  for  he  has  the  first 
right  to  the  resources  of  his  country  and  to  the  reward  of 
his  labour  ;  and  the  interest  of  the  foreign  nation  second, 
in  the  greater  sources  of  supply  and  the  enlarged  market 
for  her  merchandise. 

To  give  actuality  and  force  to  such  a  government  three 
things  will  be  required  in  its  administration,  as  suggested 
by  Mr.  Benjamin  Kidd  in  his  book,  "The  Control  of  the 
Tropics"  :  first,  its  officers  must  be  only  those  who  repre- 
sent the  highest  moral  ideals  of  civilization  ;  second,  the 
most  intimate  contact  must  be  maintained  with  the  home 
government;  third,  the  policy  and  its  administration 
must  be  constantly  subject  to  the  severe  scrutiny  of  pub- 
lic opinion.  Public  apathy,  inconsiderate  confidence  in 
our  agents  in  the  tropics — the  conceit  that  they  cannot 
go  far  wrong  because  they  are  Americans,  will  lead  to 
shame  and  degradation. 

Such  a  moral  motive  and  the  conscientious  discharge 
of  the  duty  involved  constitute  the  white  man's  right, 
and  his  only  right,  to  occupy  the  black  man's  country. 

It  was  with  Captain  Button  of  the  Volta  that  I  went  up 
the  Congo  to  Boma  and  Matadi.  I  owe  to  several  of  the 
captains,  and  to  Captain  Harrison  in  particular,  a  debt 
of  gratitude  for  many  kindnesses  ;  but  I  travelled  most 
with  Captain  Button  and  from  no  other  did  I  receive  so 
many  kind,  and  often  costly  favours.  More  than  once, 
upon  finding  me  in  very  bad  health  when  his  ship  called 
at  Gaboon,  he  fairly  forced  me  to  go  for  a  health- change  j 
and  on  the  occasion  of  my  visit  to  the  Congo  I  was  in 
such  a  miserable  condition  of  health  that  a  single  attack 
of  fever  would  probably  have  been  my  last,  when  Captain 
Button  swooped  down  upon  me  and  carried  me  off. 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  205 

I  had  been  troubled  with  abscesses,  common  enough  on 
the  coast,  and  when  I  went  aboard  I  had  a  very  severe 
one  on  my  left  forearm.  One  night,  near  the  Congo, 
when  I  was  suffering  with  the  pain  and  had  been  awake 
several  nights,  the  captain  had  a  stretcher  placed  on  deck 
for  me  and  advised  that  I  lay  my  arm  in  a  basin  of  warm 
water  which  was  placed  beside  me.  He  then  told  the 
ship's  surgeon  to  examine  my  arm  and  see  whether  it 
ought  not  to  be  lanced.  But  he  told  him  not  to  mention 
the  matter  of  lancing  it  to  me.  I  was  weak  and  nervous 
with  loss  of  sleep  and  he  wished  to  save  me  the  additional 
pain  of  thinking  about  the  lancing  of  it  and  consenting  to 
it.  The  doctor  examined  the  arm  and  then  having  con- 
sulted with  the  captain  went  below  and  got  his  lance. 
When  he  returned  the  captain  was  sitting  beside  me 
ready  to  assist.  The  doctor  a  second  time  bent  over  the 
arm  as  it  was  extended  over  the  basin.  Then  I  saw  the 
gleam  of  a  knife  which  was  instantly  plunged  into  my 
arm.  Ten  minutes  of  agony  during  which  the  captain 
poured  on  warm  water, — and  then  rest,  the  first  I  had 
had  for  many  days,  and  a  few  minutes  later  I  was  asleep. 
That  was  the  last  of  the  abscesses  and  from  that  time  I 
gained  perceptibly  each  day. 

At  Boma,  the  capital  of  the  Congo  Free  State,  sixty 
miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  we  lay  in  against  the 
bank  and  moored  the  ship  to  the  shore.  Close  beside  us 
was  a  sight  upon  which  I  gazed  with  gruesome  interest, 
the  wreck  of  the  steamship  Matadi.  My  first  voyage  to 
Africa  was  on  the  Matadi.  I  think  it  was  on  her  next 
voyage  that  she  was  wrecked.  Like  all  the  ships  of  her 
class  she  was  called  a  palm-oil  tub.  The  steamers  of  the 
present  service  are  incomparably  better.  The  Matadi  was 
blown  up  by  a  fearful  explosion  of  gunpowder  that  had 
been  carelessly  stored.  All  the  crew  except  one  were 
drowned.  There  were  also  on  board  two  American  mis- 


206         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

sionaries,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harvey,  who  went  down  with  the 
ship.  They  were  in  their  cabin  when  the  explosion  oc- 
curred. The  door  jammed  and  could  never  afterwards  be 
opened,  so  that  the  bodies  remain  there  to  this  day.  A 
smoke-stack  protruding  out  of  the  water,  a  part  of  a  poop- 
deck,  overgrown  with  grass,  and  an  enormous  side-piece 
flung  upon  the  shore — such  were  the  innuendo  of  the 
scene. 

Boma  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  long,  sloping  hill.  Its 
buildings,  many  of  them  made  of  sheets  of  corrugated 
iron,  are  scattered  in  disorder.  Behind  them  on  higher 
ground  is  the  attractive,  pale-coloured  residence  of  the 
governor.  There  is  a  good  road  and  several  avenues  of 
palms  and  a  number  of  flower-gardens  surrounding  the 
residences.  A  well-ordered  hospital,  a  state  school,  a 
palace  of  justice,  a  prison  for  white  men,  a  fort  and  bar- 
racks are  the  more  conspicuous  buildings.  Three  street- 
lamps  and  a  native  band  that  plays  twice  a  week,  prob- 
ably by  ear,  make  life  delightful  and  bring  the  city 
up  to  date.  Boma  looks  well  from  the  river — as  looks  go 
in  Africa.  But  when  one  remembers  that  for  more  than 
twenty  years  it  has  been  the  capital  of  the  Congo  Free 
State,  a  territory  four  times  the  size  of  Germany,  from 
which  also  vast  wealth  has  been  drawn  and  that  Belgium's 
civilizing  agencies  have  been  concentrated  here,  one  is 
not  greatly  impressed.  At  least  it  does  not  compare 
with  the  other  capitals  of  West  Africa,  the  French  Libre- 
ville, the  German  Dualla  or  the  English  Calabar. 

In  the  hospital  at  Boma  one  may  see  cases  of  the 
strange  a  sleeping  sickness,"  that  awful  scourge  that  has 
in  late  years  passed  across  Africa  from  the  east  to  the 
west  decimating  the  population  and  often  in  the  farther 
east  destroying  entire  towns.  Until  very  recently  there 
has  been  no  recovery.  The  patient  sleeps  without  wak- 
ing, except  for  food — sleeps  and  wastes  away  for  eight  or 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  207 

ten  months  until  lie  dies.     The  germ  is  now  supposed  to 
be  carried  by  the  tsetse  fly. 

I  of  course  witnessed  no  Belgian  atrocities  at  Boma,  and 
it  would  surely  have  been  a  matter  of  amazement  if  I 
had.  But  still  more  amazing  is  the  report  of  certain 
casual  travellers,  who  had  no  more  opportunity  than  my- 
self for  direct  observation,  to  the  effect  that  there  are  no 
atrocities,  because  they  did  not  witness  them.  If  I  had 
gone  to  King  Leopold's  representative,  the  governor  at 
Boma,  and  had  told  him,  in  the  course  of  a  neighbourly 
conversation,  that  I  had  heard  about  the  Belgian  atroci- 
ties and  had  come  to  witness  them  that  I  might  exploit 
them  to  the  horrified  nations,  and  then  had  asked  him  to 
accommodate  my  purpose  by  having  at  least  a  few  atroci- 
ties performed  in  the  front  yard,  including  the  different 
varieties  of  murder,  mutilation  and  torture,  it  would  have 
been  parallel  to  the  methods  pursued  by  certain  persons, 
who  actually  heralded  their  arrival  and  their  purpose  all 
along  the  way,  notified  Leopold's  agents  in  particular, 
perfected  their  investigations  by  asking  questions  of  these 
same  agents,  and  then  proclaimed  that  these  cruel  reports 
of  atrocities  and  atrocities  represent  an  unparalleled  con- 
spiracy on  the  part  of  several  hundred  men  from  half  a 
score  of  nations,  who  having  lived  many  long  years  in  the 
Congo  have  become  prejudiced  and  have  accumulated  a 
number  of  personal  grievances  against  the  Belgian  offi- 
cials and  are  now  seeking  by  the  invention  of  innumer- 
able charges  of  unheard-of  crimes  to  ruin  the  reputation 
of  Good  King  Leopold  and  deprive  him  of  his  rights. 
The  administration  of  the  Congo  government  is  not  a 
melodrama  ;  it  is  anything  but  that.  Leopold's  atrocities 
are  not  placed  on  free  exhibition  at  Boma  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  travellers,  some  of  whom  are  immorally  un- 
concerned in  regard  to  the  real  suffering  of  the  natives. 
They  are  performed  only  for  money  and  plenty  of  it 


208        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFEICA 

The  motive  is  money  and  the  argument  is  that  they  pay. 
Though  I  was  only  a  traveller,  and  not  a  resident,  in  the 
Congo  Free  State,  yet  I  can  speak  with  some  authority  on 
the  question  of  the  Belgian  regime ;  for  I  lived  several 
years  in  the  adjoining  territory,  the  Congo  Francais,  a 
large  part  of  which  was  farmed  out  in  concessions  to  Bel- 
gian companies,  whose  policy  and  methods  were  precisely 
those  of  the  Congo  Free  State.  Such  a  system,  however, 
is  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  the  French,  and  one  cannot 
think  that  it  will  long  endure. 

Consider  for  a  moment  the  various  sources  of  the  evi- 
dence against  Leopold  and  his  agents.  There  are  about 
two  hundred  Protestant  missionaries  in  the  Congo  Free 
State,  representing  the  United  States,  Canada,  Great 
Britain,  Germany,  Norway,  Sweden  and  Denmark.  These 
missionaries,  men  and  women,  have  lived  for  years  in  the 
Congo,  many  of  them  twenty,  and  even  twenty-five  years, 
and  are  scattered  over  the  entire  territory.  They  speak 
the  language  of  the  people  and  therefore  have  the  most 
intimate  knowledge  of  conditions.  Their  motive  is  only 
the  good  of  the  native,  and  every  influence  that  makes  for 
the  betterment  of  the  native's  condition  contributes  to 
their  success.  That  they  should  not  know  the  truth  in 
regard  to  the  alleged  atrocities  of  the  Belgians  is  impossi- 
ble ;  that  they  should  unite  to  falsify  the  truth  is  un- 
thinkable. But  their  testimony  is  all  of  one  kind,  and 
against  Belgium,  and  constitutes  probably  the  most  ter- 
rible indictment  of  a  civilized  government  in  the  last  two 
thousand  years,  if  not  in  the  history  of  the  world. 

But  there  are  other  witnesses  besides  missionaries.  In 
1893  the  British  government,  in  response  to  the  entreaty 
and  remonstrance  of  missionaries  and  traders  and  English 
Chambers  of  Commerce,  appointed  Mr.  Eoger  Casement, 
British  Consul  to  the  Congo,  to  make  a  thorough  investi- 
gation of  conditions  in  the  Congo  Free  State.  Mr.  Case- 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  209 

meut,  whom  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  at  Matadi,  was 
peculiarly  fitted  for  the  task  assigned  to  him.  He  had 
spent  twelve  years  in  the  consular  service  in  Africa.  He 
had  the  unqualified  confidence  of  the  British  government 
and  was  held  in  the  highest  esteem  and  admiration  by  all 
classes  of  men  in  the  Congo.  Mr.  Poultney  Bigelow  says 
of  him  :  l  c  Eoger  Casement  is  the  sort  of  man  depicted  in 
Jules  Yerne's  novels,  the  man  who  is  everlastingly  ex- 
ploring and  extricating  himself  from  every  imaginable 
difficulty  by  superhuman  tact,  wit  and  strength.77 

Mr.  Casement's  report  of  the  results  of  his  investigation 
is  a  revealing  document.  It  confirms  the  worst  charges 
that  had  been  made.  It  abounds  in  such  incidents  as  the 
following:  "This  man  himself,  when  I  visited  him  in 
Boma  goal,  in  March,  1901,  said  that  more  than  a  hun- 
dred women  and  children  had  died  of  starvation  at  his 
hands,  but  that  the  responsibility  was  due  to  his  superior's 
orders  and  neglect." 

But  even  Belgians  have  been,  and  are  to-day,  among 
those  who  denounce  the  Belgian  king.  For  instance,  a 
Belgian  agent,  named  Lecroix,  confessed  that  he  had  been 
instructed  by  his  chief  to  massacre  all  the  natives  of  a 
certain  village,  including  women  and  children,  for  not 
bringing  in  enough  rubber.  He  also  told  how  that  on 
one  occasion  his  chief  had  put  sixty  women  in  chains,  all 
but  five  of  whom  died  of  starvation. 

At  last  the  feeling  became  so  strong  in  Europe  that  in 
September,  1904,  King  Leopold  appointed  a  Commission 
of  Inquiry  consisting  of  three  persons,  two  of  whom  were 
his  own  subjects  j  the  third  was  an  eminent  Swiss  jurist. 
This  was  somewhat  like  King  Leopold  investigating  him- 
self. But  the  Commission  seems  to  have  listened  impar- 
tially to  the  testimony.  With  the  eyes  of  Europe  upon 
them  they  proceeded  to  the  Congo  and  spent  four  and  a 
half  mouths  in  taking  the  sworn  testimony  of  "hundreds 


210        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  witnesses. "  The  contrast  between  what  the  Commis- 
sion expected  to  find,  and  what  they  actually  found, 
may  be  best  expressed  in  the  words  that  M.  Janssens, 
president  of  the  Commission,  is  reported  to  have  spoken 
publicly  before  leaving  Boma :  "I  came  here  with  a  feel- 
ing of  confidence,  expecting  to  find  everything  in  order. 
I  did  not  think  I  was  about  to  come  into  contact  with 
such  putridity  as  I  have  found.'7 

In  general  the  report  of  King  Leopold's  Commission 
confirms  all  the  charges,  including  the  very  worst,  that 
had  ever  been  made  against  the  Congo  government. 

To  such  an  extent  is  this  true  that  those  who  are  work- 
ing against  the  continuance  of  King  Leopold's  rule  in  the 
Congo  would  be  willing  to  base  their  appeal  on  the  report 
of  the  Commission  alone.  It  is  a  lengthy  and  exhaustive 
document,  but  a  few  brief  extracts  will  convey  a  fair  idea 
of  the  whole  ;  for  instance  the  following  : 

"  In  the  majority  of  cases  the  native  must  go  one  or  two 
days'  march  every  fortnight,  until  he  arrives  at  that  part 
of  the  forest  where  the  rubber  vines  can  be  met  with  in  a 
certain  degree  of  abundance.  There  the  collector  passes 
a  number  of  days  in  a  miserable  existence.  He  has  to 
build  himself  an  improvised  shelter  which  obviously  can- 
not replace  his  hut.  He  has  not  the  food  to  which  he  is 
accustomed.  He  is  deprived  of  his  wife,  exposed  to  the 
inclemencies  of  the  weather  and  the  attacks  of  wild  beasts. 
When  once  he  has  collected  the  rubber  he  must  bring  it 
to  the  State  station,  or  to  that  of  the  Company,  and  only 
then  can  he  return  to  his  village,  where  he  can  sojourn  for 
barely  more  than  two  or  three  days,  because  the  next  de- 
mand is  upon  him. 

"They  brought  before  the  Commission  a  multitude  of 
native  witnesses,  who  revealed  a  great  number  of  crimes 
and  excesses  alleged  to  have  been  committed  by  the  sen- 
tries. .  .  .  The  truth  of  the  charges  is  borne  out  by 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  211 

a  mass  of  evidence  and  official  reports.  .  .  .  The 
agents  examined  by  the  Commission  did  not  even  attempt 
to  refute  them. 

"According  to  the  witnesses,  these  auxiliaries  convert 
themselves  into  despots,  demanding  women  and  food,  not 
only  for  themselves,  but  for  a  retinue  of  parasites  which 
a  love  of  rapine  causes  to  become  associated  with  them. 
They  kill  without  pity  all  those  who  attempt  to  resist. 

"If  we  accept  Stanley's  figures  it  is  incontestable  that 
a  large  part  of  the  population  must  have  disappeared ; 
for,  from  Stanley  Pool  to  Nouvelle  Anvers,  the  banks  of 
the  river  are  almost  deserted. " 

Thus  much  from  the  report  of  King  Leopold7  s  Commis- 
sion. What  is  called  the  "  sen  try  system"  is  the  most 
atrocious  factor  in  this  policy.  As  a  matter  of  course 
coercion  must  be  used  in  the  enforcement  of  a  continuous 
labour-tax.  An  army  of  thirty  thousand  native  soldiers  is 
maintained  for  the  suppression  and  exploitation  of  the 
people,  who  are  unarmed  and  defenseless.  Thus  can  a 
king  do  when  he  becomes  a  trader.  This  army  is  raised 
by  conscription,  and  is  practically  an  army  of  slaves. 
The  conscripts  are  removed  from  their  own  people  and 
are  made  to  serve  among  strangers.  Despair  is  never  a 
sanctifying  grace  ;  and  these  desperate  men  are  armed  and 
compelled  to  a  life  of  continual  cruelty  and  shocking 
crime,  whereby  they  are  in  course  of  time  transformed 
into  foulest  fiends.  To  them  is  committed  the  oversight 
of  those  who  collect  rubber  and  the  punishment  of  those 
who  come  short.  This  is  the  "  sentry  system." 

When  I  visited  Boma  and  Matadi  the  commonest  sub- 
ject of  conversation,  both  by  traders  and  missionaries,  was 
the  Belgian  atrocities. 

Matadi  is  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  from  the  sea. 
Between  Boma  and  Matadi,  at  a  bend  in  the  river,  there 
is  a  fearful  whirlpool  called  the  DeviPs  Caldron,  at  least 


212        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

it  is  u  fearful  "  in  the  wet  season  when  the  river  is  high- 
est and  the  current  swiftest.  This  vortex  is  the  shape  of 
a  funnel.  As  we  left  it  on  our  right  and  passed  across 
the  outer  rim,  the  big  ocean  steamer  listed  to  starboard. 
A  short  time  before,  a  lighter  loaded  with  cargo  and 
manned  by  Kruboys  had  been  drawn  into  it.  Several 
persons  watched  it  as  it  swept  around  in  a  narrowing 
circle  until  at  last  near  the  centre  it  suddenly  took  a 
header  and  plunged  into  the  abyss  with  its  human  freight. 

Matadi  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  perpendicular  rock, 
which  Eichard  Harding  Davis  says  is  "not  so  large  as 
Gibraltar,  nor  so  high  as  the  Flatiron  Building,  but  it  is 
a  little  more  steep  than  either.  Three  narrow  streets 
lead  to  its  top.  They  are  of  flat  stones,  with  cement 
gutters.  The  stones  radiate  the  heat  of  stove-lids.  They 
are  worn  to  a  mirror-like  smoothness,  and  from  their 
surface  the  sun  strikes  between  your  eyes,  at  the  pit  of 
your  stomach,  and  blisters  the  soles  of  your  mosquito 
boots. " 

Matadi  is  not  much  more  than  a  railroad  terminus. 
Between  the  Lower  and  Upper  Congo,  that  is,  between 
Matadi  and  Leopoldville,  on  Stanley  Pool,  the  river  is  not 
navigable,  owing  to  the  rapids.  A  railroad  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  long  unites  these  two  places.  It  was  built 
at  a  tremendous  cost  both  of  money  and  of  life.  Out  of 
four  hundred  Chinese  imported  at  one  time,  for  work  on 
the  railroad,  two  hundred  and  fifty  died  within  three 
years.  Kruboys  and  others  were  brought  from  the  north 
and  engaged  to  work  according  to  a  certain  definite  con- 
tract ;  but  in  most  cases  the  contract  was  disregarded  and 
they  were  practically  enslaved,  working  until  they  died. 
The  railroad,  the  Chemin  de  Per  du  Congo,  is  exceedingly 
useful  and  has  also  proved  a  paying  investment.  The 
fare  from  Matadi  to  Leopoldville,  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles,  was  fifty  dollars,  when  I  was  at  Matadi,  that  is, 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  213 

twenty  cents  a  mile.  But  I  imagine  that  those  who  had 
made  the  journey  on  foot  over  that  rough  country,  did 
not  begrudge  the  exorbitant  fare. 

Henry  M.  Stanley,  starting  from  Matadi,  blasted  the 
rocks  in  order  to  make  a  road  by  which  the  sections  of  his 
boat  could  be  dragged  along  enroute  to  the  Upper  Congo. 
Until  I  visited  Matadi  I  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the 
name  which  the  natives  gave  to  Stanley,  Bula  Matadi. 
It  means  Breaker  of  Rocks — a  name  to  be  proud  of, 
surely  ;  and  one  which  Stanley  deserved.  His  authority 
was  superseded  by  that  of  the  government  of  the  Congo, 
which  to  this  day  is  called  by  the  natives  Bula  Matadi — 
Breaker  of  Rocks  and  incidentally  of  men.  It  happened 
that  Consul  Casement  was  at  Matadi ;  and  the  captain  and 
I  were  invited  to  a  picnic  which  was  given  in  his  honour. 
It  was  a  novel  experience  for  Africa.  We  rowed  down 
the  river  and  landed  for  our  lunch  in  a  peculiar  and 
pleasant  place  on  piles  of  rock,  of  historic  and  even  leg- 
endary interest. 

During  those  days  there  was  a  representative  mission- 
ary gathering  at  Matadi  and  I  had  the  opportunity  of 
meeting  and  conversing  with  missionaries  from  all  over 
the  Congo  Free  State.  Some  of  them  I  had  known  be- 
fore. All  whom  I  met  had  but  one  story  to  tell  in  regard 
to  the  ''Belgian  atrocities, "  a  story  that  might  have  been 
a  chapter  from  the  history  of  Hell. 

They  told  of  seeing  more  than  fifty  severed  hands  at  a 
time,  including  hands  of  children,  which  the  soldiers 
were  taking  to  the  white  men  to  prove  that  they  had 
killed  people  according  to  their  orders.  The  black 
soldiers  had  also  eaten  the  flesh  of  their  victims.  Some- 
times the  agents  demanded  an  amount  of  food  from  the 
natives  for  themselves  and  the  entire  post  which  the 
natives  could  only  continue  to  furnish  by  buying  from 
other  natives  j  and  they  were  expecting  that  when  they 


214        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

could  buy  no  more  they  would  be  killed.  In  some  vil- 
lages when  the  impost  of  food  was  delivered  the  people 
had  nothing  left  for  themselves,  and  fed  on  leaves. 
When  the  rubber  in  certain  districts  was  becoming  ex- 
hausted and  the  tax  was  not  reduced  the  people  mixed 
the  latex  (juice  of  the  rubber  vine)  with  an  inferior  latex, 
and  when  they  did  so  the  agent,  if  it  was  discovered,  made 
them  eat  it.  The  work  about  the  posts  was  done  by  slaves, 
mostly  women,  and  at  night  these  women  were  obliged  to 
be  at  the  disposal  of  the  native  soldiers.  Missionaries 
themselves  had  met  soldiers  driving  to  the  post  women 
tied  together  with  ropes,  to  be  held  as  hostages  until  their 
husbands  could  bring  a  certain  amount  of  rubber.  This 
was  the  usual  means  of  compelling  men  to  bring  rubber. 
They  often  tortured  the  women  in  order  to  intimidate  the 
men.  But  many  of  the  hostages  could  not  be  redeemed 
and  were  starved  to  death.  They  told  of  the  mutilations 
of  the  living,  of  hands  and  feet  chopped  off,  and  of  men 
unsexed.  They  told  of  four  or  five  men  placed  in  a  row 
one  behind  another  and  shot  with  one  bullet,  and  of 
women  and  children  crucified.  They  told  of  the  popula- 
tion of  certain  districts  reduced  from  thousands  to  hun- 
dreds, and  in  other  districts  wiped  out  entirely.  It  is 
estimated  by  some  that  since  the  ascendency  of  King- 
Leopold  in  the  Congo  the  total  population  has  decreased 
from  twenty -five  millions  to  fifteen  millions,  there  being 
ten  million  murders  set  down  to  the  account  of  the  king. 

Eeturning  from  Matadi  to  the  steamer  in  the  sultry 
tropical  night,  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  atmosphere  were 
drenched  with  blood,  that  we  breathed  its  vapours,  and 
that  the  great  swift-rolling  tide  beneath  us  was  the  blood 
of  the  slain  millions,  hurrying  out  to  incarnadine  the 
sea  that  beats  against  the  shores  of  all  the  civilized  world. 

The  greed  of  Leopold  and  the  apathy  of  the  nations  are 
together  responsible  for  the  existence  of  present  condi- 


WHITE  AND  BLACK  215 

tious  in  the  Congo.  It  is  irrelevant  to  answer  that  there 
are  also  atrocities  in  Portuguese  and  other  possessions  of 
Africa.  There  is  more  oppression  and  cruelty  in  the 
Congo  Free  State  than  in  all  the  rest  of  Africa.  More- 
over, we  have  no  authority  over  Portugal  and  can  exer- 
cise only  the  right  of  appeal  and  its  moral  influence. 
But  the  Powers  signatory  to  the  Brussels  Act,  with  the 
United  States  in  the  lead,  created  the  Congo  Free  State, 
and  are  still  the  formal  guardians  of  its  people.  A  con- 
ference of  those  Powers  would  without  doubt  deal  with 
other  evils  in  Africa  besides  those  of  the  Congo  Free  State. 
To  the  average  man,  unversed  in  the  forms  of  international 
usage,  it  would  seem  within  the  competence  of  any  one 
of  the  Powers  which  committed  to  King  Leopold  a  sacred 
trust  upon  certain  definite  conditions,  to  urge  upon  the 
other  responsible  powers  the  duty  of  meeting  again  to  in- 
quire whether  those  conditions  have  been  fulfilled  and  to 
adjudicate  the  issues  relating  to  their  non-fulfillment. 

Meanwhile,  the  Congo  State  lies  bleeding  at  every  pore, 
and  those  who  are  hoping  and  praying  in  all  the  world 
for  a  people  who  have  ceased  to  hope  and  have  never 
learned  to  pray,  have  their  eyes  turned  towards  the  United 
States. 

A  missionary  writing  from  Baringa  in  the  Congo  said  : 
' '  An  old  chief  came  up  to  where  we  were  standing.  '  Oh, 
white  man,'  he  pleaded,  <do  have  our  work  changed. 
We  do  not  want  to  shirk  it,  but  there  is  no  longer  any 
rubber  in  our  district  and  my  people  are  being  killed  for 
nothing.  What  am  I  to  do  ?  >  I  suggested  that  the  in- 
spector appointed  by  the  king  would  no  doubt  come  to 
Baringa  and  he  could  appeal  to  him.  He  asked  how 
long  it  would  be  before  the  inspector  would  come.  I 
said  perhaps  two  months  ;  upon  which  he  cried  out, 
'  Two  months  !  It  will  be  too  late  then.  We  shall  all  be 
killed  before  that  time.7  And  after  we  had  left  him  we 


216        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

could  hear  him  crying  after  us,  '  We  shall  all  be  killed  ! 
We  shall  all  be  killed  !  >» 

Four  years  have  passed,  and  in  all  likelihood  the  chief 
with  his  family  has  been  killed  long  ago,  leaving  not 
even  a  name  behind  him,  but  only  this  haunting  cry,  that 
keeps  ringing  in  one' s  heart. 

So  they  all  are  crying  to  us  with  outstretched  hands ; 
a  people  who  call  the  white  man,  Father,  and  trust  him 
with  pathetic  confidence  until  he  betrays  their  trust  and 
smites  them  with  the  rod  of  tyranny.  I  think  I  can  hear 
their  piteous  cry  wafted  on  the  winds  that  wander  over 
the  great  forest :  "  We  shall  all  be  killed  !  We  shall  all 
be  killed !» 


XI 

THE  FANG 

DTJKING  my  second  and  much  longer  term  in 
Africa  I  lived  at  Baraka,  a  mission  station  two 
miles  south  of  Libreville,  in  the  Congo  Fran£ais, 
on  the  great  estuary  of  the  Gaboon  Biver,  or,  the  bay,  as 
I  always  called  it.  The  coast  tribe  of  the  Gaboon  is 
called  the  Mpongwe.  But  my  work  was  almost  entirely 
with  the  interior  tribe — the  Fang. 

The  Fang  is  probably  the  largest  of  all  the  tribes  of 
West  Africa.  The  Bulu  of  the  Cameroon  interior  are  a 
branch  of  the  Fang,  and  there  are  several  other  branches. 
They  occupy  the  interior  of  Cameroon  and  the  Congo 
Francais,  extending  north  and  south  behind  at  least 
twelve  coast  tribes  occupying  three  hundred  miles  of 
coast.  M.  de  Brazza  after  extended  travel  among  the 
Fang  estimated  that  there  were  more  than  ten  millions, 
and  perhaps  fifteen  millions  of  them  ;  but  I  think  it  un- 
likely that  further  knowledge  will  confirm  this  calcula- 
tion. M.  de  Brazza  is  usually  a  most  reliable  authority  ; 
but  he  probably  travelled  through  the  more  densely  pop- 
ulated parts  of  the  Fang  territory. 

Since  most  of  my  work  was  done  among  the  Fang, 
along  the  Gaboon  Eiver,  they  are  the  tribe  that  I  know 
best.  I  am  very  partial  to  them,  and  therefore,  before 
going  further  I  must  say  a  word  in  regard  to  the  pro- 
nunciation of  this  word,  "  Fang,"  and  beg  the  reader  not 
to  speak  of  them  as  if  they  were  a  generation  of  vipers. 
The  name  is  not  pronounced  in  the  least  like  our  word 

217 


218        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

"  fang,"  and  indeed  the  vowel  sound  in  the  latter  word  is 
unknown  in  the  African  dialects  ;  the  sound  of  the  letter 
"  a"  is  like  that  in  the  word  "  father." 

The  whole  Fang  tribe  has  been  moving  towards  the 
coast  for  many  years,  and  they  have  already  emerged  at 
several  points,  notably  Gaboon.  Dr.  Leighton  Wilson, 
writing  about  1860,  speaks  of  them  as  having  just  ap- 
peared west  of  the  Sierra  del  Crystal  Mountains,  one  hun- 
dred miles  east  of  the  Gaboon  Coast.  Dr.  Wilson,  who 
had  a  more  extended  knowledge  of  the  coast  than  any 
man  of  his  time,  speaks  of  the  Fang  as  the  most  remark- 
able and  most  forceful  people  he  had  met  in  West  Africa. 
They  now  have  villages  among  the  Mpongwe,  and  along 
the  entire  length  of  the  Gaboon  Eiver  and  the  tributaries 
of  the  river  and  estuary.  This  for  years  was  my  mission 
field,  a  territory  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  east  and 
west,  and  fifty  miles  north  and  south.  The  entire  area  is 
a  network  of  waterways,  which  are  also  the  highways ; 
for  there  are  very  few  bush-roads,  and  they  are  of  the 
worst  kind.  I  know  of  no  more  attractive  field  in  West 
Africa.  It  combines  the  far  more  comfortable  home  of 
the  coast,  and  the  more  hopeful  work  of  the  interior. 
By  the  use  of  a  launch,  or  even  a  sailboat,  the  towns  on 
the  watercourses  are  easily  and  quickly  accessible. 

Thus,  also,  it  allows  for  expansion  and  concentration 
of  influence  in  their  proper  relation.  Instead  of  the  in- 
fluence of  the  missionary  being  concentrated  in  an  im- 
mediate community  where  he  becomes  practically  a  pas- 
tor, in  such  a  field  as  that  of  the  Gaboon  watercourses  he 
is  rather  as  a  bishop  among  native  pastors,  and  influen- 
tial in  many  communities.  For  the  native,  however 
meagre  his  education,  if  he  be  otherwise  worthy,  is  al- 
ways a  better  pastor  than  the  foreigner,  and  needs  only 
counsel.  The  church  also  is  likely  to  be  more  independ- 
ent in  spirit,  and  resourceful.  In  a  single  community 


THE  FANG  219 

where  the  white  missionary  is  ever  present,  Christianity 
shares  his  prestige,  and  a  few  leaders  being  converted, 
the  movement  becomes  popular,  and  many  follow  with- 
out deep  convictions  or  earnest  purpose.  But  in  a  com- 
munity with  which  no  white  man  is  identified  Christianity 
cannot  acquire  an  artificial  popularity ;  converts  are 
earnest, — are  leaders,  not  followers,  and  each  group  be- 
comes the  centre  of  a  strong  influence,  exerted  in  service 
from  the  beginning,  and  the  nucleus  of  a  native  church. 

At  the  same  time  there  may  be  a  proper  concentration 
of  influence  in  boarding-schools  and  classes  for  religious 
training,  and  especially  in  a  seminary  for  the  training  of 
catechists  and  ministers.  This  withal  approaches  most 
nearly  to  the  method  of  our  Master,  who  preached  to 
multitudes  in  various  places  widely  separated,  the  while 
He  concentrated  His  influence  in  the  training  of  the 
twelve.  He  who  of  all  men  might  have  dispensed  with 
methods,  was  really  a  master  of  methods. 

Before  my  time  the  only  work  of  our  mission  among 
the  Fang  was  at  Angom  Station,  on  the  upper  river, 
seventy  miles  above  Baraka ;  but  the  work  though  faith- 
fully done  had  been  restricted  to  one  town,  which  was 
a  small  factor  in  the  great  field  that  I  have  described, 
which  larger  field  had  never  been  opened  to  missionary 
work.  When  our  missionary  at  Angom  died,  and  his 
successor  after  a  short  period  withdrew,  the  station  was 
abandoned  ;  and  the  little  church  not  yet  established  in 
the  faith,  unable  to  stand  alone,  soon  collapsed.  A  few 
years  later,  in  1902,  when  little  remained  but  the  name, 
the  Angom  church  was  formally  dissolved  by  the  Corisco 
Presbytery. 

I  have  written  at  some  length  of  the  Bulu  of  the  in- 
terior. The  Fang  of  the  interior,  at  the  head  waters  of 
the  Gaboon,  are  like  the  Bulu,  while  some  of  those  at  the 
coast  are  quite  civilized. 


220        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

The  Fang  village  in  this  territory  is  built  close  to  the  river 
or  stream.  The  population  of  a  village  varies  from  fifty  to 
three  hundred ;  the  average  population  is  probably  not 
more  than  a  hundred  persons.  Those  of  the  same  village 
are  closely  related,  usually  brothers  or  first  cousins,  and 
their  wives  and  children,  with  the  elders,  or  grandfath- 
ers. They  regard  themselves  as  one  family,  and  all  the 
children  of  the  village  as  brothers  and  sisters.  Under  no 
circumstances  would  they  intermarry.  The  child  ad- 
dresses ever  so  many  men  as  "  Father,'7  and  ever  so  many 
women  as  "Mother."  Parental  authority  is  not  exclu- 
sive ;  the  whole  town  has  more  or  less  to  say  in  the  con- 
trol and  discipline  of  each  child.  The  result  is  that  while 
a  score  of  parents  are  adding  zest  to  existence  in  a  fine 
squabble  as  to  whether  the  child  shall  sit  here,  or  there, 
shall  do  this,  or  that,  the  child,  heedless  of  conflicting 
orders,  does  as  he  likes  and  goes  where  he  pleases.  Yet, 
one  finds,  as  he  knows  them  better,  that  the  real  parents 
are  always  distinguished  and  exercise  the  final  authority. 

The  village  consists  of  a  single  street  running  away 
from  the  river,  though  sometimes  there  is  a  second  street, 
at  right  angles  with  the  first,  and  occasionally  even  a 
third.  On  either  side  of  the  street  the  houses  are  built 
in  straight  rows,  close  together,  and  almost  exactly  the 
same.  Among  the  Bulu  the  houses  are  detached ;  but 
among  the  Fang  they  are  under  one  continuous  roof. 
This  arrangement  is  convenient  for  an  enemy  in  time  of 
war.  For,  to  set  fire  to  the  first  house  is  to  burn  the 
whole  town  ;  and  nothing  could  burn  more  rapidly  than 
dry  thatch.  Nearer  the  coast  the  enemy  will  often  satu- 
rate the  end  of  the  first  roof  with  kerosene — it  is  the  only 
use  they  make  of  kerosene.  Across  each  end  of  the  street 
is  a  u  palaver  -house,"  which  is  the  public  place,  where 
the  men  spend  most  of  the  day  in  talking,  eating,  sleep- 
ing and  quarrelling.  This  is  the  club-house  of  the  men, 


THE  FANG  221 

and  the  women  enter  it  only  on  privilege.  A  mission- 
ary entering  a  town  will  nearly  always  be  sure  of  an 
audience  in  the  palaver-house. 

The  houses  have  bark  walls  held  by  horizontal  strips 
of  bamboo  tied  with  rope  of  vine,  and  supported  by  up- 
right poles  two  feet  apart,  which  are  sharpened  at  the 
lower  end  and  stuck  in  the  ground.  The  roof  is  of  palm 
thatch,  and  there  is  no  floor.  Not  a  nail  is  used  in  the 
entire  construction  of  the  house.  Nearer  the  coast,  bark 
is  not  used  for  walls.  They  are  made  of  split  bamboo, 
attached  horizontally  to  upright  poles. 

The  interior  is  a  single  room  with  beds  around  the 
walls.  The  bed  consists  of  straight  round  poles  laid 
lengthwise  upon  two  cross-poles,  the  head  being  sup- 
ported by  a  wooden  pillow.  Upon  these  beds  the  natives 
sleep  with  nothing  under  them  and  nothing  over  them. 
But  they  usually  keep  a  fire  at  night,  which  is  made  on 
the  earth  floor.  There  is  no  outlet  for  the  smoke,  but  it 
escapes  through  a  narrow  open  space  between  the  walls 
and  the  roof.  The  door  is  tight  closed  at  night,  and 
often  a  family  will  enjoy  themselves  around  a  smoulder- 
ing fire  in  smoke  so  dense  that  a  white  man  could  scarcely 
enter. 

Their  houses  are  kept  as  clean  inside  as  their  construc- 
tion allows.  But  they  are  always  in  a  state  of  disorder. 
The  native  mind  has  no  categories.  The  native's  knowl- 
edge consists  of  isolated  facts  which  he  feels  no  mental 
compulsion  to  classify  ;  neither  do  the  women  take  pleas- 
ure in  household  order  ;  and  the  notion  of  each  article 
having  a  regular  and  proper  place  is  foreign  to  their 
minds.  However  civilized  they  may  become  in  the  fu- 
ture, I  can  hardly  think  that  the  teapot  under  the  bed  or 
the  pig  in  the  parlour  would  ever  offend  their  sense  of 
propriety. 

In  the  middle  of  the  front  wall  is  a  rectangular  hole, 


222        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

that  looks  like  a  window,  but  it  is  both  door  and  window. 
At  night  it  is  closed  by  propping  a  piece  of  bark  against 
it.  The  successful  entrance  of  this  door  is  a  gymnastic 
feat  requiring  long  practice  for  its  performance,  and  we 
can  afford  to  watch  the  white  man's  first  attempt.  He 
has  seen  the  black  man  pass  through  it  so  easily  that  he 
does  not  suspect  any  difficulty.  Approaching  with  as- 
surance he  lifts  one  leg  quite  high  and  passes  it  over  the 
sill,  only  to  find  that  he  cannot  get  his  head  in  ;  for  not 
only  is  the  door  very  low  but  the  ragged  thatch  eaves  of 
the  roof  project  immediately  in  front  of  it.  In  the  at- 
tempt his  helmet,  striking  the  eaves,  rolls  into  the  street. 
He  goes  after  the  helmet,  brushes  off  some  of  the  dirt,  and 
approaching  a  second  time,  though  with  less  assurance, 
he  puts  the  other  leg  through  the  door,  which  is  no  im- 
provement whatever  upon  the  first  effort,  and  he  loses  his 
helmet  again.  A  third  time  he  essays  to  enter,  but  with 
a  step  that  indicates  a  rise  of  temperature.  He  thrusts 
his  head  and  shoulders  through  the  door,  then  tries  to 
bring  a  foot  in  after  him  ;  but,  invariably  failing  to  get 
his  foot  nearly  high  enough  to  pass  the  sill  he  trips,  falls 
forward,  and  goes  plunging  into  the  house  sprawling  on 
all  fours,  and  only  by  extraordinary  exertion  escapes  the 
fire  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The  children,  if  they  are 
not  accustomed  to  the  white  man,  scream  with  fright, 
and  the  grown  people  laugh  without  restraint.  Those  in 
the  street  laugh  still  louder  and  afford  every  evidence  that 
the  rear  view  of  the  performance — the  unintelligible  ex- 
ertions, the  sudden  disappearance  and  the  feet  lingering 
on  the  door-sill — was  an  entertainment  which  they  would 
greatly  enjoy  a  second  time.  The  white  man  gets  up  out 
of  the  dust  and  the  ashes,  glares  fiercely  around  and  asks 
if  anybody  knows  where  his  helmet  is.  Some  time  in  the 
future,  after  an  extended  and  distressing  experience  he 
may  chance  to  observe  exactly  how  the  black  man  enters 


THE  FANG  223 

Ms  small  door.  He  neither  halts  nor  hesitates  ;  but  throw- 
ing up  one  leg,  he  throws  his  head  down  at  the  same 
time,  probably  extending  an  arm  in  front  of  him,  and 
thrusting  both  head  and  leg  through  together,  he  bolts 
into  the  house.  Near  the  coast  the  houses  are  better. 
There  are  often  several  rooms  in  a  house.  They  have 
doors  that  swing  on  hinges,  and  windows  the  same,  but  un- 
glazed.  They  have  grass  mats  upon  the  beds.  But  all 
this  is  the  result  of  the  imported  civilization. 

The  idle  life  of  the  Fang,  especially  in  the  interior,  and 
his  freedom  from  responsibility,  seem  to  the  impatient 
white  man  to  have  obliterated  from  his  mind  the  idea  of 
time.  The  more  prosperous  people  near  the  coast  have  a 
passion  for  clocks,  but  it  is  because  they  like  to  hear  them 
tick  and  strike.  A  Fang  cannot  conceive  that  he  has 
wronged  you  if  he  comes  several  days  late  to  keep  an  en- 
gagement. This  uureliableness  in  everything  where  time 
is  a  factor  is  one  of  the  chief  trials  of  the  white  man  in 
Africa.  But  he  ought  to  regard  the  native's  viewpoint 
and  consider  how  very  irritating  and  really  discouraging 
to  the  native  must  be  the  white  man's  incessant  hurry. 
"We  are  not  in  a  hurry,"  says  the  black  man.  "Why 
should  you  come  to  Africa  to  set  us  all  hurrying  ?  Has  it 
made  your  own  people  so  very  happy  that  you  want  to 
share  with  us  the  blessing  of  haste  I " 

The  African  is  the  most  sociable  man  in  the  world. 
He  could  not  easily  be  killed  with  work  even  the  hard- 
est :  he  is  not  much  afraid  of  it.  But  isolate  him,  take 
him  away  from  his  people,  and  he  could  easily  die  of 
homesickness.  He  is  strongly  emotional  and  warmly 
affectionate  by  nature.  He  loves  his  children,  and  some- 
times embraces  them  tenderly,  but  he  never  kisses  them. 
The  kiss  is  meaningless  to  the  African.  They  have  never 
seen  any  such  thing  except  between  white  people.  I  am 
almost  ashamed  to  tell  their  interpretation  of  it  as  some 


224        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  them  have  seen  it  executed  and  have  reported  to  their 
people  ;  but  I  presume  it  will  do  no  harm.  They  think 
that  white  people,  in  kissing,  expectorate  into  each  other's 
mouths.  The  word  by  which  they  designate  the  kiss  is  a 
compound  which  means  "to  exchange  saliva." — No  won- 
der it  is  not  popular  !  When  those  at  the  coast  begin  the 
practice  of  this  fine  art,  it  is  usually  accompanied  by  a 
sound  loud  enough  to  start  a  team  of  horses. 

All  their  spare  time  they  sit  in  the  palaver-house  and 
talk,  stopping  for  an  occasional  nap.  The  old  men  as 
they  sit  scratching  themselves  with  the  itch  relate  wonder- 
ful tales  and  tell  infinite  lies  about  their  achievements 
when  young,  how  many  women  eloped  with  them,  how 
many  enemies  they  had  killed  in  war,  and  how  they  had 
fought  wild  animals  with  unheard-of  bravery.  But  they 
turn  out  interesting  tales  and  are  always  listened  to  re- 
spectfully because  of  their  years. 

The  chief  factor  in  the  social  life  is  the  marriage  cus- 
toms and  the  relations  of  husband  and  wife.  The  woman 
is  regarded  as  inferior  in  every  way  to  the  man.  It 
would  be  disgraceful  to  a  man  to  be  caught  eating  with 
his  wife.  Her  duty  is  to  work  for  him  and  to  provide  for 
him.  She  is  bought  with  a  price  and  is  a  part  of  his 
wealth  ;  indeed,  a  man's  wealth  and  influence  are  measured 
by  the  number  of  his  wives.  The  son  inherits  the  father's 
wives,  all  but  his  own  mother.  Frequently  in  the  forest 
one  may  see  a  woman  staggering  along  the  rough  bush- 
path  under  a  load  of  forty  or  fifty  pounds,  and  perhaps 
carrying  her  poor  babe  in  a  strap  hung  at  her  side,  while 
her  lordly  husband  walks  before  her  with  only  his  gun  or 
a  knife.  In  some  tribes  a  wife  must  keep  a  certain  dis- 
tance behind  her  husband  as  they  walk.  If  he  should  fall 
she  must  also  fall,  lest  she  laugh  at  him. 

A  man  and  his  wife  once  came  to  me  from  a  distant 
town,  the  woman  carrying  a  load  of  food  which  they 


THE  FANG  225 

wished  to  sell,  the  man  carrying  nothing.  I  told  them 
that  I  had  no  use  for  the  food  and  could  not  buy  it ; 
whereupon  the  man  appealed  to  my  pity  and  urged  that 
the  poor  woman,  who  was  exhausted,  and  who  was  suffer- 
ing with  an  ulcer  on  her  foot,  was  not  able  to  carry  the 
load  back  home.  I  replied  that  I  knew  how  to  relieve 
her,  and  I  asked  them  both  to  turn  their  backs  and  close 
their  eyes.  They  did  as  I  asked,  probably  expecting  that 
I  would  perform  some  miracle  that  would  make  the  bur- 
den light.  But,  taking  the  burden  from  the  woman's 
back,  I  suddenly  put  it  upon  the  man,  and  threw  the  strap 
over  his  shoulder.  He  flung  it  upon  the  ground  with  an 
angry  protest  at  the  great  indignity  I  had  put  upon  him 
in  the  presence  of  his  wife. 

Inconsistent  with  this  is  his  love  of  his  mother,  of 
which  I  have  spoken  before ;  but  it  may  be  mentioned 
again,  for  it  is  the  strongest  sentiment  and  the  deepest 
emotion  in  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  African.  He  al- 
ways loves  his  mother  more  than  his  wife.  The  wife  is 
also  expected  to  love  the  members  of  her  own  family  more 
than  her  husband  ;  but  the  love  of  mother  is  strongest  in 
the  men.  She  is  the  one  who  will  defend  him  against  the 
machinations  of  his  wives  and  be  true  to  him  when  all 
others  combine  to  denounce  or  to  injure  him.  One  day 
on  an  English  steamer  a  traveller  who  was  standing  on 
deck  and  teasing  some  Kruboys  in  a  boat  below  remarked 
to  an  Old  Coaster  how  very  good-natured  they  were.  The 
Old  Coaster  told  him  something  to  say  to  one  of  them  that 
involved  a  reflection  on  his  mother.  The  traveller  made 
the  remark  and  was  startled  and  somewhat  frightened 
when  the  "  good-natured  "  Kruboy  turned  upon  him  in  a 
rage,  cursed  him  and  threatened  to  kill  him.  If  he  had 
been  ashore  he  might  have  paid  the  penalty  with  his  life. 
The  African,  old  and  young,  thinks  he  has  fully  justified 
any  violent  assault  upon  another  when  he  says  :  "  He 


226        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

cursed  my  mother."  Any  reflection  whether  it  bo  more 
or  less  serious  is  called  a  a  curse." 

A  man  also  loves  his  children  more  than  his  wife. 
Often  the  head  wife  is  the  one  who  bears  the  most  children. 
Children  are  not  weaned  until  the  age  of  three  years  or 
thereabouts.  During  all  this  period  of  lactation  the  hus- 
band and  wife  observe  absolute  continence  in  regard  to 
each  other,  though  not  necessarily  in  regard  to  others. 

A  man  has  as  many  wives  as  he  can  afford  to  buy. 
The  idea  of  marrying  "just  for  love '  >  is  laughable.  Such 
an  act  is  sometimes  cited  as  indicating  weakness  of  char- 
acter. Marriages  of  "  strong-minded "  men  are  con- 
trolled by  expediency  and  convenience.  In  the  territory 
of  the  Gaboon  I  know  of  no  man  that  has  more  than  ten 
wives ;  but  in  the  farther  interior  some  chiefs  have  half  a 
hundred.  Yet,  though  the  possession  of  many  wives  is  the 
ambition  of  every  man,  most  of  them  never  possess  more 
than  one.  The  dowry  which  a  man  pays  for  a  wife  is 
enormous  ;  and  none  but  the  most  successful  traders  are 
able  to  earn  the  amount.  A  dowry  is  often  kept  intact  and 
passed  from  father  to  son,  doing  repeated  service.  A  man 
may  also  procure  a  dowry  by  the  sale  of  a  sister.  I  have 
heard  Fang  boys  boasting  that  they  were  rich  because 
they  had  several  sisters. 

For  those  who  are  not  so  fortunate  as  to  inherit  a  dowry 
or  to  have  a  sister,  there  are  two  alternatives  ;  first  they 
may  remain  unmarried,  with  the  result  that  they  will  be 
regarded  as  contemptibly  poor,  and  will  be  engaged  in 
endless  palavers  with  all  the  husbands  of  the  town  ;  or, 
they  may  boldly  steal  a  woman  of  some  other  town,  which 
will  cause  war  between  the  two  towns,  and  in  the  end, 
after  several  or  many  persons  have  been  killed,  the  whole 
town  will  have  to  pay  the  dowry.  Sometimes  a  man  may 
have  an  incomplete  dowry  and  may  by  working  earn  suf- 
ficient to  complete  it.  The  following  would  be  an  ordinary 


THE  FANG  227 

dowry  among  the  Fang  living  near  the  coast :  Ten  goats, 
five  sheep,  five  guns,  twenty  trade-boxes  (plain  wooden 
chests),  one  hundred  heads  of  tobacco,  ten  hats,  ten  look- 
ing-glasses, five  blankets,  five  pairs  of  trousers,  two  dozen 
plates,  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  calico,  fifty  dollars'  worth  of 
rum,  one  chair  and  one  cat.  In  addition  to  the  above  he 
must  make  frequent  presents  to  his  wife's  relations,  who 
may  be  expected  to  arrive  at  any  time  and  in  any  number 
for  an  indefinite  visit.  If  there  is  any  hatred  in  the  heart 
of  the  African  man  it  is  usually  directed  towards  his 
wife's  relations.  A  man  is  all  his  lifetime  subject  to 
bondage  by  reason  of  his  wife. 

A  certain  fellow  missionary  was  married  to  another 
missionary.  Some  of  the  African  boys,  knowing  that  the 
white  man  had  paid  no  dowry,  expressed  envious  regrets 
at  the  ease  with  which  a  white  man  marries  a  wife.  '  *  All 
you  white  men  have  to  do,"  they  said,  "  is  simply  to  ask 
a  woman  ;  and  the  whole  palaver  is  finished."  This  also 
made  my  celibacy  the  more  incomprehensible. 

When  a  wife  dies  without  having  borne  children  the 
husband  has  the  right  to  insist  that  the  dowry  be  returned. 
A  part  of  it  and  sometimes  all  of  it  will  have  been  spent, 
and  the  people  are  reluctant  to  make  up  the  loss  ;  so  the 
request  that  the  dowry  be  returned  after  the  death  of  a 
wife  nearly  always  leads  to  war,  though  they  do  not  ques- 
tion the  right  of  the  custom.  If  the  wife  runs  away  either 
to  her  own  or  another  town,  the  dowry  paid  for  her  must 
be  returned,  if  the  woman  is  not  sent  back.  In  nearly 
every  case  her  people  will  find  it  more  convenient  to  send 
her  back  than  to  restore  the  dowry ;  so  their  bad  pas- 
sions of  greed  and  immorality  are  balanced  the  one  against 
the  other,  and  the  large  dowry  serves  the  purpose  of  keep- 
ing husband  and  wife  together.  But  if  the  woman  runs 
away  not  to  her  own  town,  but  to  some  other  town,  elop- 
ing with  another  man,  her  people  will  often  prevent  war 


228        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

between  the  two  towns  by  inducing  her  to  return.  Oth- 
erwise they  themselves  will  become  involved  in  the  war. 
Nearly  all  the  wars  between  different  communities  of  the 
same  tribe  begin  with  a  "  woman-palaver. " 

A  woman  after  an  attempt  to  run  away,  or  upon  being 
brought  back,  is  usually  put  in  stocks  until  she  becomes 
submissive.  Her  foot  is  passed  through  a  hole  in  a  heavy 
block  of  wood  about  four  feet  long,  the  hole  then  being 
closed  by  a  bolt.  She  is  kept  thus  night  and  day.  The 
irritation  of  the  rough  wood  often  produces  a  very  bad 
ulcer.  A  woman  in  stocks  is  a  common  sight  in  the 
Fang  towns.  One  day  while  I  was  in  a  Fang  town  on 
the  river,  I  heard  a  woman  crying  in  the  next  town  as  if 
in  great  pain.  I  asked  an  explanation  and  said  I  must 
go  and  see  what  was  the  matter.  Some  men  of  her  town 
being  present  tried  to  persuade  me  not  to  go  by  telling  a 
variety  of  conflicting  lies  that  made  me  suspicious.  I 
went  to  the  town,  and  found  in  the  palaver-house  a  with- 
ered old  savage  punishing  his  young  wife  by  putting  her 
hand  in  a  large  and  heavy  block,  with  the  help  of  his 
younger  brothers.  He  had  made  a  small  hole  in  the  block 
and  was  dragging  her  hand  through  it.  The  hole  was  so 
small  that  he  thought  she  would  not  be  able  to  get  her 
hand  out,  and  it  would  not.  require  the  usual  bolt.  The 
hand  was  about  one-third  of  the  way  through  the  hole  and 
was  already  badly  bruised.  I  knew  the  Fang  towns,  and 
just  how  far  I  could  safely  venture  to  use  force  in  each, 
for  they  differ  widely.  The  individual  counts  for  noth- 
ing ;  everything  depends  upon  the  feeling  or  attitude  of 
the  whole  town  towards  the  white  man.  The  sight  of  the 
woman  and  her  crying  were  unbearable ;  I  ordered  the 
old  chief  to  withdraw  her  hand  immediately.  He  knew 
just  how  to  do  it  and  I  did  not.  He  began  to  argue,  but 
I  said :  ' l  Argument  afterwards :  remove  her  hand  in- 
stantly." Still  he  talked,  and  the  woman  cried.  But  a 


THE  FANG  229 

moment  later  my  hand  clutched  his  throat  and  he  found 
himself  pinioned  against  the  opposite  wall.  Thereupon 
he  indicated  his  readiness  to  comply  with  my  request. 
He  dragged  her  hand  out  of  the  block  j  the  women  of  the 
town,  all  assembled,  led  her  away  as  they  moaned  pa- 
thetically in  sympathy,  the  woman  herself  still  crying. 
A  little  later  I  followed  them  into  the  house  and  found 
them  pouring  warm  water  over  the  bruised  hand  to  soothe 
the  pain  ;  but  the  woman  still  cried. 

Meantime,  the  old  man  told  me  the  story.  It  was 
typical  of  the  extreme  injustice  often  committed  against 
the  African  woman :  A  young  woman  married  against 
her  will  to  a  very  old  man,  with  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence that  she  despised  him  and  cared  too  much  for 
somebody  else.  I  made  the  incident  the  text  of  my  ser- 
mon and  preached  an  up-to-date  sermon  on  Woman's 
Eights. 

The  old  man's  cupidity,  always  alert,  suggested  a  happy 
expedient.  In  a  suave  manner  he  deliberately  proposed 
that  since  I  knew  so  well  how  to  treat  a  woman,  he  would 
as  a  favour  accept  a  proper  dowry  from  me,  renounce  his 
claim  upon  her  and  let  me  marry  her.  But  I  exclaimed, 
at  least  to  myself :  "  This  is  so  sudden  !  " 

But  would  not  the  old  man  immediately  carry  out  his 
purpose  when  I  had  left  the  town  ?  No,  he  would  not. 
An  unexpected  interruption  in  the  performance  of  such 
an  act  he  would  regard  as  a  sign  that  the  act  would  be 
attended  by  misfortune  to  himself,  and  he  would  not  re- 
peat it.  And  that  particular  act,  if  he  had  repeated  it, 
would  certainly  have  been  attended  by  misfortune ;  in- 
flicted not  by  any  invisible  power,  but  by  a  white  man. 
For,  having  undertaken  to  prevent  the  wrong,  if  I  should 
afterwards  allow  it,  I  would  lose  influence  and  be  despised 
in  that  town.  But  lest  the  reader  should  think  of  me  as 
a  very  warlike  individual,  with  a  Bible  in  one  hand  and 


230        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

a  big  stick  in  the  other,  I  hasten  to  say  that,  except  in 
self-defense,  I  have  only  three  times,  in  more  than  twice 
so  many  years,  laid  violent  hands  upon  a  native ;  and  all 
three  times  the  outrageous  treatment  of  a  woman  was  the 
occasion. 

Less  dowry  is  paid  for  a  child  than  for  "a  whole 
woman, '  '  as  the  Fang  would  say.  A  man  frequently  pays 
the  dowry  for  a  very  young  girl,  who  is  then  taken  to  his 
town  and  given  in  charge  to  his  mother  to  raise,  and  the 
mother  will  probably  " raise"  her  very  early  in  the 
morning.  She  trains  the  girl  for  her  son,  and  at  a  proper 
age  delivers  his  wife  to  him.  Children  are  often  be- 
trothed to  each  other,  the  boy's  father  paying  the  dowry 
to  the  girl's  father,  the  children  of  course  having  nothing 
to  say  in  the  matter.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  these 
latter  are  the  happiest  marriages  in  Africa.  A  man  once 
came  to  Efulen  in  great  distress  saying  that  his  little 
daughter,  a  mere  baby,  was  very  ill  and  that  if  we  did 
not  help  her  she  would  surely  die  and,  he  added,  the 
worst  of  it  was  that  she  was  betrothed  and  he  had  received 
a  portion  of  the  dowry  which  he  would  be  obliged  to  re- 
turn if  she  should  die.  His  grief  was  truly  pitiable.  I 
have  known  instances  where  a  child  was  betrothed  be- 
fore it  was  born,  the  dowry  to  be  kept  intact  and  returned 
in  case  the  child  should  not  be  a  girl. 

One  Sunday  I  walked  to  an  inland  town  two  hours  be- 
hind Baraka,  where  I  found  the  people  engaged  in  talk- 
ing a  dowry-palaver.  I  had  to  wait  until*  this  was 
finished  before  I  could  get  a  hearing.  The  occasion  of 
the  palaver  was  briefly  this  :  Some  years  ago,  in  another 
town,  there  were  two  brothers  whose  father  died  leaving 
them  their  sister  as  an  inheritance.  A  husband  was 
found  for  this  sister  who  paid  a  handsome  dowry.  The 
elder  brother  appropriated  the  dowry  and  took  to  him- 
self a  wife.  Several  years  passed  j  the  younger  brother 


THE  FANG  231 

was  grown  to  manhood,  and  he  too  desired  a  wife  but 
had  no  dowry  with  which  to  procure  her.  He  demanded 
from  his  brother  his  rightful  share  of  his  sister's  dowry. 
The  dowry  of  course  was  gone  ;  but  the  elder  brother  now 
had  a  daughter  five  years  old,  and  it  was  proposed  that 
he  should  find  a  husband  for  this  child,  thus  procuring  a 
dowry  with  which  to  settle  with  his  younger  brother. 
The  trouble  between  the  brothers  became  serious ;  and 
the  people,  wishing  to  avoid  war,  induced  them  to  ask  a 
certain  neighbouring  chief,  who  had  a  reputation  for  wis- 
dom and  diplomacy,  to  arbitrate  between  them  and  de- 
cide the  matter. 

This  was  the  palaver  that  was  in  progress  when  I 
entered  the  town  on  Sunday,  and  I  heard  the  closing 
speeches  and  the  decision  of  the  judge,  which  was  as  fol- 
lows: "I  will  cut  the  palaver  thus:  The  elder  brother 
must  dispose  of  his  daughter  as  speedily  as  possible,  and 
pay  to  his  younger  brother  the  sum  of  the  dowry.  Mean- 
while, to  procure  obedience  to  this,  the  elder  brother's 
wife  will  remain  in  this  town  as  my  wife  until  the  dowry 
is  paid." 

This  amicable  arrangement  was  agreed  to  by  all  the 
parties  concerned. 

This  chief  deserved  his  reputation  for  cleverness.  A 
few  weeks  later  I  was  passing  through  his  town  when  he 
called  after  me  and  asked  if  I  were  going  to  pass  by  with- 
out making  him  a  little  present  of  some  tobacco  in  recog- 
nition of  our  intimate  friendship. 

In  reply  I  asked  :  "  Why  do  you  not  rather  complain 
that  I  pass  your  town  without  stopping  to  tell  you  God's 
Word  ?  Is  tobacco  more  important  t " 

His  sprightly  answer,  delivered  with  perfect  simplicity, 
was,  "No  doubt  God's  Word  is  more  important;  but 
tobacco  also  is  God's  gift,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to  Him 
for  it." 


232        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Some  of  their  immoral  customs  one  caii  only  mention 
with  reserve  even  in  writing.  It  is  always  regarded  as 
amiable,  and  is  sometimes  required,  that  a  host  should 
give  his  wife  to  a  guest.  The  wife  is  not  consulted.  Yet, 
if  the  guest,  being  a  Christian,  should  refuse  to  comply 
with  this  custom,  the  woman,  regarding  herself  as  re- 
pulsed, will  become  enraged  and  vow  vengeance  upon  the 
visitor ;  it  will  be  positively  dangerous  for  him  to  eat 
food  in  that  town  lest  she  poison  him.  It  is  common  also 
for  a  man  afflicted  with  a  long  illness  to  ask  a  friend  to 
assume  his  marital  relations  until  his  recovery. 

In  one  instance  this  request  was  made  of  a  Christian 
man  by  an  intimate  friend,  and  at  the  woman's  sugges- 
tion. The  man  in  his  distress  appealed  to  me  to  talk  the 
palaver  with  the  sick  man.  If  a  man  has  many  wives,  it 
is  regarded  as  magnanimous  for  him  to  take  but  little 
notice  of  social  wrong- doing  ;  and  the  result  is  boundless 
immorality. 

Charges  of  adultery  are  often  made  for  the  purpose  of 
extortion.  For  this  same  purpose  husbands  and  wives 
together  often  conspire  against  another  person. 

Polygamy  is  the  greatest  obstacle  to  the  introduction 
of  Christianity.  It  is  not  identical  with  the  question  of 
African  sensuality  ;  but  involves  a  man's  wealth,  influ- 
ence and  reputation,  all  of  which  depend  upon  the  num- 
ber of  his  wives.  It  is  the  very  foundation  of  the  whole 
structure  of  African  society  and  is  as  firmly  rooted  as 
their  Cameroon  Mountain  in  the  African  soil.  Critics  of 
missions  say  that  the  obstacle  is  insuperable.  But  we  be- 
lieve in  a  Power  that  can  say  to  the  mountain  :  "  Be  thou 
removed;  and  be  thou  cast  into  the  sea."  And  that 
same  Power  is  actually  removing  polygamy  to-day. 
Moreover,  the  critics  do  not  seem  to  see  or  do  not  under- 
stand that  if  polygamy  be  an  insuperable  obstacle  to 
Christianity  it  is  also  an  insuperable  obstacle  to  civiliza- 


THE  FANG  233 

tion,  which  they  advocate.  The  renouncing  of  polygamy 
and  putting  away  his  wives  with  all  the  loss  that  it  in- 
volves serves  as  a  final  test  of  the  African's  sincerity  in 
professing  the  Christian  faith.  The  man  of  the  parable 
said:  "I  have  married  a  wife,  and  therefore  I  cannot 
come. ' '  When  at  the  close  of  a  service  in  a  native  town 
I  gave  a  similar  invitation  a  man  replied  with  a  sorrow- 
ful shake  of  his  head  :  "I  have  married  five  wives,  and 
cannot  come." 

In  the  later  chapters  of  this  book  I  shall  tell  of  men 
who,  notwithstanding  the  jeers  and  contempt  of  the  peo- 
ple, have  put  away  many  wives  and  have  come. 

Among  the  real  negro  tribes  of  the  Soudan  (for  the 
tribes  of  Central  and  Southern  Africa  are  not  pure 
negroes)  there  is  a  central  government  and  a  general 
organization.  But  there  is  no  tribal  organization  among 
the  Fang  or  any  other  tribe  south  of  the  Calabar  Eiver. 
The  village,  or  a  group  of  villages  close  together  and  im- 
mediately related,  is  the  unit  and  the  entirety  of  organi- 
zation ;  although  a  common  language  is  a  bond  of  sym- 
pathy and  they  might  freely  unite  against  a  common  foe. 
Their  government  is  nearly  patriarchal  in  form.  There 
is  a  headman  in  each  village  who  is  usually  advanced  in 
years.  But  unless  he  has  many  more  wives  than  any 
other  man  he  takes  counsel  in  all  matters  with  the  elders 
of  the  town  ;  and  there  are  many  public  discussions  in 
which  all  the  men  have  a  right  to  advise.  There  is  no 
despotism,  except  the  despotism  of  custom  which  no  chief 
would  challenge. 

The  right  hand  of  the  government  is  a  secret  society  of 
the  men,  usually  called  The  Gorilla  Society,  or  sometimes 
The  Leopard  Society.  This  or  some  corresponding  society 
is  found  in  all  the  tribes  of  West  Africa,  though  there  are 
details  of  difference  even  between  the  communities  of  the 
same  tribe.  The  head  of  the  society  is  not  supposed  to  be  a 


234        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

man,  but  a  gorilla.  They  all  know  that  this  is  not  true  but 
they  have  agreed  to  impose  this  lie  upon  each  other  and 
no  one  would  dare  say  that  the  head  of  the  society  is  a 
man.  This  man,  or  gorilla,  is  a  witch-doctor  and  has 
great  knowledge  of  witchcraft  and  all  the  occult  arts. 
When  a  person  dies  the  gorilla  can  tell  whether  he  has 
been  a  victim  of  witchcraft,  and  he  has  means  of  discov- 
ering the  witch.  In  order  to  realize  the  power  of  this 
man  and  the  society  one  need  only  remember  that  nearly 
every  death  in  Africa  is  imputed  to  witchcraft.  His 
knowledge,  however,  is  not  regarded  as  absolute.  He 
designates  certain  persons  whom  he  professes  to  see  in  a 
vision,  and  they  are  then  tried  by  ordeal. 

It  would  be  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  African  ter- 
ror of  witchcraft.  When  it  is  announced  that  a  certain 
deceased  person  has  died  of  witchcraft,  a  panic  ensues. 
They  run  back  and  forth  in  the  street  with  wild,  staring 
eyes,  uttering  imprecations  and  demanding  blood. 

The  common  ordeal  is  to  drink  some  poisonous  concoc- 
tion and  if  it  does  not  produce  vertigo  the  accused  is  ad- 
judged innocent ;  but  if  he  staggers  or  falls  he  is  guilty, 
and  the  people,  all  standing  around  and  looking  on  with 
spears  and  swords  in  their  hands,  immediately  rush  upon 
him  and  kill  him,  usually  cutting  the  body  to  pieces.  Far 
more  women  than  men  die  this  death. 

Among  the  Fang  this  society  represents  the  worship  of 
ancestors.  The  motive  of  the  worship  is  not  devotion  to 
their  ancestors  but  rather  that  they  may  procure  their 
help  in  every  undertaking,  good  and  bad.  Each  man  as 
directed  by  the  head  of  the  society  secures  the  skull  of  a 
father  or  uncle  recently  deceased  and  after  various  cere- 
monies, of  which  I  shall  speak  when  I  describe  the  native 
religion,  he  puts  the  skull  in  a  box  made  for  the  purpose. 
No  woman  may  see  the  contents  of  the  box,  nor  is  she 
supposed  to  know  what  it  contains.  If  she  should  see  the 


THE  FANG  235 

skull  she  will  die.  And  she  really  does  die,  if  it  be  known 
"  that  she  has  seen  it.  She  is  doubtless  poisoned  by  the 
society.  The  spirit  of  the  ancestor,  if  the  skull  is  well 
treated,  will  punish  with  sickness  or  death  a  disobedient 
or  false  wife,  or  any  other  enemy.  This  it  is  supposed 
will  in  some  degree  restrain  disobedience  on  the  part  of 
wives  and  secure  j  ustice  and  honesty  between  men.  Thus 
it  serves  the  purpose  of  government.  Where  the  power 
of  the  ancestor  is  the  efficient  agent  rather  than  the  super- 
natural power  of  the  head  of  the  society,  the  latter  has 
less  prominence  and  often  does  not  profess  to  be  more 
than  a  man.  But  where  he  is  regarded  as  a  gorilla,  or 
spirit,  no  woman  or  child  or  uninitiated  man  may  see 
him  and  live.  Therefore  as  he  approaches  a  town  he 
gives  warning  by  roaring  like  a  gorilla.  The  women  and 
children  flee  for  their  lives.  Or,  if  unable  to  escape, 
they  fall  upon  the  ground  and  shut  their  eyes,  mothers 
also  putting  their  hands  over  their  babies'  eyes,  until  the 
gorilla  passes  out  of  the  town,  after  having  helped  him- 
self to  chickens,  bananas  or  anything  that  he  desires. 

The  African,  it  is  said,  loves  idleness,  amusement  and 
war  ;  of  these  three  he  probably  loves  war  most. 

Except  in  the  vicinity  of  the  foreign  governments  or 
the  missions,  war  is  the  usual  condition  ;  not  only  be- 
tween tribe  and  tribe  but  between  village  and  village. 
Beyond  the  range  of  civilization  there  is  no  salutation  be- 
tween persons  casually  meeting  and  no  need  of  it ;  a  man 
hearing  another  approaching  in  the  forest  would  hide. 

Nsama,  which  means  a  crowd,  is  also  the  word  for  chance, 
or  opportunity ;  because  a  man  does  not  go  anywhere 
alone  and  a  crowd  is  his  opportunity.  Of  course  villages 
are  often  on  friendly  terms  and  some  may  manage  to  re- 
main so ;  but  in  such  cases  there  are  usually  strong 
reasons  of  expediency. 

The  usual  beginning  of  a  war  is  the  stealing  of  a  woman, 


236        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

as  I  have  said  ;  but  this  does  not  always  lead  to  war  and 
the  shedding  of  blood.  Nearer  the  coast  milder  measures 
of  retaliation  are  often  preferred,  and  when  a  woman  is 
stolen  the  offended  town  will  capture  one  of  the  other  side 
and  keep  him  prisoner  until  the  woman  is  returned.  The 
solidarity  of  the  village  in  the  native  mind  is  impressed 
upon  one  continually.  They  also  capture  persons  of  a 
village  in  which  some  one  owes  them  a  dowry  which  he  is 
reluctant  to  pay.  In  all  such  matters  the  whole  village  is 
held  responsible  for  each  one  of  its  inhabitants.  Many  a 
time,  travelling  on  the  river,  I  have  been  about  to  call  at 
a  town  when  one  of  my  crew  in  alarm  has  told  me  that 
there  was  a  palaver  between  that  town  and  his  town  and 
he  dare  not  enter  there.  At  the  next  town  another  one  of 
the  crew  may  raise  the  same  objection  ;  and  another  at  the 
next.  After  a  thorough  trial  I  had  to  depend  almost  en- 
tirely on  men  of  the  coast  rather  than  the  Fang,  for  at 
least  the  first  two  years.  It  was  not  a  cowardly  imagina- 
tion on  the  part  of  my  Fang  crew  j  they  were  in  real 
danger. 

On  one  occasion  one  of  my  Fang  boys,  Ndong  Koni,  my 
best  helper  and  most  devoted  friend,  accompanied  me  to 
a  certain  Fang  town  with  which  his  people  had  a  palaver. 
He  had  not  a  vestige  of  fear  in  him  and  he  told  me  noth- 
ing about  it,  but  depended  upon  my  presence  for  his 
safety.  When  I  was  about  to  hold  a  service  in  the  street 
I  observed  that  the  people  were  muttering  in  anger,  and 
at  last  there  was  an  outburst  of  wrath  which,  as  I  saw  in 
a  moment,  was  directed  against  Ndong  Koni.  A  '  *  sister '  ' 
of  Kdong  Koni,  who  as  a  matter  of  fact  was  not  nearer 
than  a  second^cousin,  having  married  a  man  in  this  town, 
had  recently  run  away  from  a  brutal  husband,  and  her 
people  had  not  yet  made  her  return,  or,  unwilling  to 
send  her  back,  had  not  yet  returned  the  dowry.  The 
proposition  was  to  seize  Ndong  Koni  and  put  him  in 


NDONG    KOXI. 

The  first,    the   moxt   faithful   and   the   bravevt   of    all   my    African 
friends. 


THE  FANG  237 

stocks  until  the  palaver  should  be  settled.  Once  they 
should  lay  hands  upon  him  nothing  could  be  done  to  re- 
strain them  ;  for  when  degraded  and  ignorant  people 
have  committed  one  hostile  act  they  become  excited  and 
violent ;  they  are  then  a  mob.  I  hurried  to  Ndong  Koni'  s 
side  and  with  him  I  stepped  back  from  the  crowd  while 
I  addressed  them  and  presented  various  arguments. 

I  said  first :  * '  Ndong  Koni  while  in  my  service  does 
not  belong  to  his  town,  but  to  me ;  he  is  my  son,  and  you 
have  no  palaver  with  me.  Now  suppose  that  one  of  your 
own  young  men  should  work  for  me — and  I  see  several 
fine-looking  young  men  here  with  strong  arms  to  pull  an 
oar.  Suppose  that  a  young  man  of  your  town  should  go 
with  me  to  Alum,  where  you  have  a  palaver,  and  that  the 
people  of  Alum  should  attempt  to  seize  him,  what  would 
you  like  to  have  me  do  ?  Shall  I  say  :  i  He  is  only  a 
black  boy  and  I  am  a  white  man  ;  I  don't  care  what  you 
do  with  him.7  Or  shall  I  say  :  l  The  colour  of  the  skin 
makes  no  difference,  so  long  as  the  blood  is  red.  This 
boy  while  he  works  for  me  is  my  son  ;  and  if  you  should 
harm  a  white  man's  son  you  will  have  a  palaver  with  me 
and  with  the  white  governor  at  Libreville  who  owns  the 
gunboat.7  Now  what  would  you  like  me  to  say  if  one  of 
these  young  men  should  go  with  me  to  Alum  and  the 
people  should  want  to  put  him  in  stocks?" 

They  shouted  in  reply  :  "  We  would  want  you  to  say 
he  was  your  son.  Those  are  good  words.  You  are  the 
father  of  us  all.'7 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  I  have  many,  many  children  ;  but  my 
life  is  full  of  trouble,  for  they  do  not  obey  me." 

The  chief  and  a  few  others  were  as  hostile  as  ever,  but 
there  was  a  marked  change  in  the  attitude  of  the  people  ; 
and  in  order  to  force  an  assertion  of  their  friendliness  I 
attempted  a  grand  bluff,  while  I  was  inwardly  quaking. 

Approaching  the  threatening  chief  I  laid  my  hand  upon 


238        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

his  arm  and  said :  1 1  Come  and  seize  this  boy  if  you 
dare.  Come  with  me  and  before  my  face  put  your  hand 
upon  my  son.77 

uNo,"  cried  the  people;  and  they  crowded  between 
the  chief  and  Ndong  Koui.  The  palaver  was  finished  ; 
but  I  thought  it  well  to  pass  on  to  the  next  town  and  not 
wait  to  hold  a  service.  Before  I  got  away  however  they 
crowded  around  me,  saying  :  "  Since  you  are  the  father 
of  the  Fang  surely  you  ought  to  give  us  some  tobacco.  A 
father  gives  tobacco  to  his  sons." 

It  is  thus  frequently  in  Africa ;  the  serious  ends  in 
burlesque  j  and,  perhaps  as  frequently,  comedy  ends  in 
tragedy. 

The  chief  himself,  coming  forward  just  before  my  de- 
parture, assured  me  of  his  good  will  by  solemnly  taking 
my  hand  in  his  and  spitting  in  it.  I  know  the  theory  of 
some  regarding  this  touching  demonstration  of  affection, 
— that  the  native  means  only  to  blow  with  his  breath, 
symbolic  of  imparting  a  blessing,  and  that  the  spitting  is 
incidental,  a  "by-product" — so  to  speak — of  the  bless- 
ing. But  as  I  looked  at  my  hand  I  realized  that  it  was 
not  a  theory,  but  a  condition,  that  confronted  me,  a  con- 
dition that  called  loudly  for  soap  and  water — warm  water 
and  plenty  of  soap.  I  have  before  this  acknowledged  the 
receipt  of  blessings  in  disguise  ;  but  I  would  cheerfully 
renounce  any  possible  benefits  that  might  accrue  from  a 
blessing  coming  in  such  a  disguise  as  this.  And  if  the 
old  chief  had  approached  me  a  second  time  with  the  offer 
of  a  blessing  on  the  other  hand,  I  would  have  said  : 
"  Please  give  me  a  curse  instead,  by  way  of  variety." 

The  form  of  "  socialism,"  by  which  any  one  of  a  village 
may  be  seized  and  killed  by  the  enemy  for  the  wrong  of 
any  other  of  that  same  village,  is  even  carried  further, 
and  to  the  extent  that  one  person  may  be  given  over  to 
the  enemy  for  the  wrong  done  by  another  person.  I  have 


THE  FANG  239 

already  said,  ID  reference  to  the  Bulu,  that  at  the  end  of 
a  war  the  ordinary  way  of  settling  the  palaver  is  that  the 
side  that  has  done  the  most  killing  will  pay  over  to  the 
other  side  a  corresponding  number  of  women,  who  become 
wives  or  sometimes  slaves  in  the  enemy's  town. 

In  war  they  are  not  careful  to  kill  only  the  enemy, 
but  often  shoot  recklessly  at  any  one  in  sight  who  might 
possibly  belong  to  the  other  side,  not  waiting  to  be  sure 
about  it.  In  the  dark  forest  they  often  mistake  a  friend 
for  a  foe,  with  dreadful  consequences.  On  the  river  it  is 
not  so  frequent. 

One  evening  one  of  my  boys,  Amvama,  who  afterwards 
became  a  catechist,  an  honest  and  lovable  boy,  was  in  a 
canoe  on  the  river,  fishing  with  a  net.  It  was  evening 
and  he  was  in  the  shade  of  overhanging  trees.  Several 
canoes  approached  and  the  people  mistaking  Amvama 
fired  upon  him.  He  hastened  to  the  bank  and  leaving 
the  canoe  and  net  fled  into  the  forest,  while  they  seized 
all  that  he  had  left.  They  afterwards  learned  who  it  was 
that  they  had  so  nearly  killed.  Amvama's  people  de- 
manded his  canoe  and  net,  which  were  surrendered.  But 
the  civilized  Amvama  cared  less  for  the  loss  of  these 
things  than  for  the  personal  outrage  done  him  in  their 
attempt  to  kill  him.  He  indignantly  put  the  question  : 
"  Why  did  you  fire  upon  me  ?  " 

They  only  replied  :     < ( How  did  we  know  it  was  you  ? ' J 

"How  did  you  know  it  was  not  II"  responded 
Amvama.  But  it  is  not  likely  that  the  discussion  con- 
tributed greatly  to  the  science  of  ethics  among  the  Fang. 

There  is  a  strange  war-custom  in  all  the  tribes  of  West 
Africa  unlike  anything  that  I  have  known  or  heard  of 
elsewhere.  Often  when  a  woman  is  stolen  from  a  small 
and  poorly  defended  town,  the  people,  desiring  to  make 
a  desperate  protest,  or  being  unusually  resentful  and 
fierce,  will  kill  some  person  of  a  third  town  that  has  noth- 


240        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ing  whatever  to  do  with  the  palaver,  by  way  of  drawing 
attention  to  the  fact  that  a  crime  has  been  committed  and 
of  impressing  the  community  with  its  enormity.  But  it 
seems  hard  that  a  man  should  be  punished  for  a  crime 
without  having  the  pleasure  of  committing  it.  Some- 
times, however,  this  is  done  to  enlist  the  help  of  the  third 
town.  For,  this  third  town  according  to  custom  is  not 
supposed  to  retaliate  directly  but  will  unite  with  the  town 
which  has  killed  one  of  their  people  in  wreaking  vengeance 
upon  the  first  town,  which  was  the  original  offender  and 
therefore  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble. 

Imagine  A,  B  and  C  to  be  three  schoolboys  ;  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  custom,  then  is  this  (if  the  colloquial  language 
may  be  pardoned)  :  A  licks  B  ;  B,  not  being  able  to  lick 
A,  lies  in  wait  for  C  and  licks  him  ;  then  C  joins  with  B 
and  they  together  lick  A.  The  moral  beauty  of  this 
principle  is  evident :  A,  B  and  C  each  get  licked. 

On  one  occasion  when  holding  a  service  in  a  town  we 
heard  two  shots  fired  in  rapid  succession  in  another  town 
close  by.  Each  shot  killed  a  man  ;  one  of  them  was  a 
chief.  They  were  unarmed  and  suspecting  no  harm  j 
for  neither  they  nor  their  people  had  anything  to  do 
with  the  palaver  which  was  the  occasion  of  the  kill- 
ing ;  nor  had  they  even  heard  of  it.  A  man  of  the  town 
that  I  was  visiting  and  who  was  then  sitting  in  the  audi- 
ence had  just  stolen  a  woman  from  another  town,  which 
latter  town  was  small  and  poorly  defended.  Being  des- 
perate, and  in  order  that  they  might  not  be  a  prey  to 
stronger  towns,  they  resorted  to  this  peculiar  mode  of 
justice  that  they  might  form  a  strong  coalition  against 
the  enemy.  In  this  they  succeeded  and  fourteen  persons 
were  killed  before  that  palaver  was  ended. 

Among  the  Mpongwe,  in  the  old  days  before  the  for- 
eign power  was  established,  and  among  the  closely  related 
tribes  south  of  them,  this  custom  prevailed  in  an  extreme 


THE  FANG  241 

form.  A.  woman  being  stolen,  the  people  of  the  offended 
town  would  hurry  to  another  town  near  by  before  the 
news  had  reached  them  and  would  kill  somebody.  This 
town  would  then  hurry  to  the  next  and  kill  somebody  there, 
each  town  doing  likewise  until  perhaps  five  or  six  persons 
of  as  many  different  towns  would  be  killed  in  one  night. 
The  last  town  would  then,  with  the  help  of  the  others,  de- 
mand justice  from  the  first.  It  may  be  that  the  object  of 
this  frightful  custom  was  to  restrain  men  from  committing 
the  initial  crime,  that  might  be  attended  with  such  wide- 
spread death,  bringing  upon  himself  the  curses  of  many 
people.  For  above  all  things  the  African  cannot  bear  to 
be  disliked  and  cannot  endure  execration. 

The  chief  amusements  of  the  Fang  and  other  tribes  of 
West  Africa  are  music,  dancing  and  story-telling.  In 
these,  and  at  all  times,  they  exhibit  a  strong  sense  of 
humour,  truly  surprising  in  an  uncivilized  people.  In 
this  faculty  they  are  next  to  our  own  race  and  quite  un- 
equalled by  others.  In  their  survival  of  suffering  and 
oppression,  in  their  easy  forgetfulness  of  injury,  and  their 
constant  buoyancy  of  mind,  who  can  tell  how  much  they 
owe  to  their  keen  sense  of  humour  I  The  pain  of  suffer- 
ing and  the  weight  of  heavy  burdens  are  mitigated  by 
frequent  laughter.  They  are  fond  of  incongruous  com- 
parisons. On  one  occasion  when  we  were  travelling  on 
the  river  there  was  on  board  a  white  man  who  was  very 
bald,  and  who  attracted  considerable  attention  from  the 
crew  because  they  had  never  seen  a  bald  white  man  be- 
fore. One  of  their  number  cheered  up  a  lot  of  tired  boys 
by  remarking  that  the  head  of  that  white  man  was  like  a 
fresh-laid  egg. 

They  are  passionately  fond  of  music  ;  but  their  sense 
of  rhythm  is  far  more  keen  than  their  sense  of  melody. 
Accordingly  the  drum  in  various  forms  is  the  favourite 
instrument.  There  are  two  principal  kinds  of  drum, 


242        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

both  made  from  the  trunk  of  a  tree  hollowed  out,  and 
about  four  feet  long.  One  of  these  stands  upright  and 
the  open  end  is  covered  with  deerskin.  It  is  beaten  with 
the  palms  of  the  hand.  They  play  remarkably  well  upon 
this  drum.  With  great  variety  in  the  beat  they  maintain 
a  constant  and  perfect  rhythm. 

The  other  drum,  which  is  larger,  lies  on  its  side,  has 
closed  ends,  and  a  long  narrow  opening  in  the  side.  It  is 
beaten  with  two  heavy  sticks.  The  wood  of  the  drum  is 
very  resonant  and  it  can  be  heard  at  a  distance  of  many 
miles.  It  is  used  as  a  kind  of  telegraph  between  towns, 
and  messages  are  sent  upon  it.  This  is  done  by  means 
of  a  secret  language  of  inarticulate  sounds  which  they 
are  able  to  imitate  upon  the  drum,  according  to  the 
part  of  it  which  they  strike  and  the  regularity  of 
the  stroke.  The  women  do  not  understand  it,  except 
a  few  common  calls.  Neither  would  any  one  be  allowed 
to  teach  it  to  a  white  man.  This  telegraphic  use  of 
the  drum  is  extraordinary ;  messages  of  startling  defi- 
niteness  are  sometimes  sent  ahead  of  a  caravan  over  a 
great  distance  being  repeated  in  town  after  town.  This 
drum,  therefore,  bulky  and  unlikely  as  it  appears,  is 
very  skillfully  made,  being  precise  in  form  and  with 
varying  shades  of  thickness  in  different  parts.  As  to  its 
musical  qualities,  it  may  have  charms  to  soothe  the  sav- 
age breast ;  I  am  very  sure  that  it  could  soothe  no  others ; 
and  among  white  people  it  would  make  more  savages 
than  it  would  soothe. 

Besides  the  drums  there  are  several  other  instruments, 
but  of  less  importance.  The  most  common  of  these  is  a 
wooden  harp  with  strings  made  of  a  vegetable  fibre, 
which  respond  to  the  fingers  with  tinkling  notes.  There 
is  also  a  xylophone  consisting  of  a  row  of  parallel  wooden 
bars,  graduated  in  length,  and  placed  upon  a  base  of  two 
parallel  banana  stocks,  which  lie  upon  the  ground. 


THE  FANG  243 

Banana  stocks  are  used  because  they  are  non-conducting. 
The  wooden  bars  are  hammered  with  sticks.  The  notes 
are  pleasant ;  but  the  Fang  do  not  make  much  of  it,  as  it 
is  not  sufficiently  noisy  to  impress  them.  There  is  still 
another  in  common  use  ;  a  harp  with  a  single  string,  the 
sound  of  which  is  like  the  magnified  music  of  a  Jew's- 
harp. 

Their  singing,  like  their  instrumental  music,  has  not 
much  "  tune  "  to  it,  but  there  is  always  a  stirring  rhythm 
and  a  certain  weird  and  touching  quality,  which  im- 
pressed me  the  more  because  I  could  never  quite  under- 
stand it, — the  same  elusive  charm  that  characterizes  the 
singing  of  the  negroes  of  the  Southern  States.  I  do  not 
refer  to  the  negro  songs  composed  by  white  men,  which 
are  entirely  different,  but  the  melodies  that  the  negro 
sings  at  his  work.  The  native  songs  are  of  the  nature  of 
chants,  and  turn  upon  several  notes  of  a  minor  scale. 
But  it  is  not  quite  our  minor  scale.  There  is  one  promi- 
nent and  characteristic  note,  which  I  confess  defied  me, 
though  it  may  have  been  a  minor  third  slightly  flat.  I 
found  it  very  difficult  to  reduce  their  songs  to  musical 
notation. 

The  words  of  most  of  the  songs  are  improvised  by  the 
leading  voice,  and  have  a  regular  refrain  in  which  all 
join.  But  if  they  wish  to  sing  in  chorus,  as  in  their 
dance-songs,  any  words  will  serve  the  purpose  and  the 
same  sentence  may  be  repeated  for  an  hour.  "  Our  old 
cow  she  crossed  the  road  "  were  luminous  with  propriety 
and  sentiment  in  comparison  with  the  words  that  they 
will  sometimes  sing  in  endless  repetition.  "  The  leopard 
caught  the  monkey >s  tail,"  "  The  roots  grow  underneath 
the  ground,"  are  samples  of  their  songs.  Their  canoe- 
songs  I  like  best  of  all.  The  rhythm  is  appropriate  and 
one  almost  hears  the  sound  of  the  paddles.  They  sing 
nearly  all  the  time  as  they  use  the  paddle  or  the  oar,  and 


244        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

on  a  long  journey  they  say  it  makes  the  hard  work 
easier.  If  they  should  take  a  white  man  on  a  journey 
and,  not  being  his  regular  workmen,  should  expect  a 
"dash" — a  fee,  or  present,  in  African  vernacular— the 
leading  voice  will  sing  the  white  man's  praises  on  the 
journey,  alluding  in  particular  to  his  benevolence,  while 
the  others  all  respond,  seeking  thus  by  barefaced  flattery 
'and  good-natured  importunity  to  shame  the  meanness  out 
of  him. 

Dancing,  both  with  old  and  young,  takes  the  place  in 
general  of  our  games  and  sports,  except  that  the  men 
also  hunt.  The  music  used  is  that  of  the  two  drums  al- 
ready described,  especially  the  upright  one,  and  they 
usually  sing  as  they  dance.  They  can  scarcely  listen  to 
the  music  without  indulging  the  movements  of  the  dance. 

Men  and  women  never  dance  together  ;  and  they  have 
nothing  like  our  conventional  dances.  There  is  some- 
thing of  the  freedom  and  unrestrained  movements  of  the 
Italian  and  Hungarian  peasant- dances  ;  yet  in  compari- 
son with  these  latter  the  African  dance  is  a  very  uncouth 
performance,  though  frequently  difficult,  and  extremely 
grotesque.  Its  peculiar  characteristic  is  that  the  feet  are 
no  more  active  than  any  other  part  of  the  body ;  arms, 
shoulders,  abdomen,  head — all  the  parts  and  every 
muscle  are  set  in  motion,  sometimes  including  even  the 
eyes  and  the  tongue.  Their  champions  we  would  call 
contortionists  rather  than  dancers. 

Sometimes  famous  dancers  from  different  towns,  in  fan- 
tastic and  absurd  decorations  and  dress,  will  contend  for 
the  championship  in  a  contest  of  several  days.  They 
dance  in  the  middle  of  the  street  before  an  audience  of 
almost  the  entire  population  of  the  different  towns  seated 
on  the  ground  on  either  side  of  the  street.  The  music  is 
not  adapted  to  the  dance,  but  the  dance  to  the  changing 
music.  The  musicians  have  hard  work,  and  they  make 


THE  FANG  245 

it  harder.  Streaming  with  perspiration  they  beat  the 
drums  with  changing  time  and  increasing  rapidity  until 
they  are  almost  as  nearly  exhausted  as  the  dancers,  and 
one  might  think  that  the  music  had  gone  mad.  Without 
doubt  the  native  dance  is  a  fine  bodily  exercise  ;  and 
they  dance  so  much  that  the  exercise  is  perhaps  the  chief 
factor  in  the  development  of  the  strength  and  athletic 
form  of  the  native. 

The  women  dance  on  the  moonlight  nights,  and  often 
through  the  entire  night.  They  all  sing  as  they  dance, 
most  of  them  standing  in  a  circle  while  individuals  one 
after  another  step  into  the  middle  of  the  circle  and  lead 
the  performance.  The  men  are  standing  around  looking 
on  and  when  a  leader  finishes  her  part  one  or  several  of 
her  gentlemen  friends  will  step  into  the  circle  and  em- 
brace her.  These  dances  have  always  appeared  innocent 
enough  to  me.  But  the  native  Christians,  who  know 
better  than  I,  and  who  also  know  the  side- scenes  that  in- 
variably attend  the  dance  though  not  a  part  of  it,  uni- 
formly condemn  the  dance,  and  say  that  no  Christian 
ought  to  take  part  in  it. 

They  dance  on  all  festive  occasions— a  betrothal,  a 
marriage,  a  victory  in  war,  the  end  of  a  war,  or  the  end 
of  a  term  of  mourning  for  the  dead.  The  men  decorate 
themselves  with  paint  and  feathers,  and  often  they  wear 
around  their  ankles  strings  of  native  bells,  consisting  of 
the  dried  hull  of  a  certain  nut,  into  which  while  still 
green  they  insert  small  stones,  which  make  a  pecul- 
iarly metallic  and  pleasant  noise. 

They  usually  form  in  two  long  lines  in  the  street,  with 
the  drums  across  one  end.  Some  great  dancer  will  per- 
form in  the  middle,  down  the  lines  and  back,  sometimes 
in  graceful  movements,  and  sometimes  in  contortions 
almost  fiendish  until  his  body  seems  to  have  no  shape  at 
all  "  distinguishable  in  member,  joint  or  limb. "  Some- 


246        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

times  they  all  move  with  him  down  the  street  and  back. 
They  sing  and  shout  as  they  dance,  shaking  the  bells  on 
their  ankles,  and  occasionally  all  together  suddenly 
stamping  upon  the  ground.  They  mark  the  time  to  per- 
fection, and  the  effect  of  so  many  men  keeping  the  time 
perfectly  while  their  movements  differ,  together  with  the 
volume  of  wild  song  and  shouting  is  quite  fascinating. 

The  chief  dance  of  the  men  is  that  of  their  Secret 
Society,  which  is  performed  only  on  very  dark  nights, 
the  women  being  compelled  to  retire  to  their  houses  and 
close  the  door  lest  they  see  it  and  die.  In  this  dance 
they  deliberately  try  to  be  unhuman  and  hideous  in  their 
movements.  I  once  witnessed  this  dance  when  I  had 
been  but  a  short  time  in  Africa  and  did  not  know  the 
serious  nature  of  my  intrusion ;  and  I  suppose  I  came 
much  nearer  suffering  violence  at  their  hands  than  I 
knew  at  the  time.  It  is  the  height  of  indiscretion  to 
show  unnecessary  contempt  for  native  customs,  or  to  dis- 
regard their  feelings  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  mere 
curiosity.  But  I  was  not  aware  of  their  feelings  until  it- 
was  too  late  to  retreat. 

Hearing  the  drumming  and  the  roar  of  the  gorilla-man 
I  knew  they  were  having  a  characteristic  dance  and  with 
a  lantern  in  my  hand  I  started  along  the  bush -path  to  see 
it  and  entered  the  town  before  they  were  aware  of  my  ap- 
proach. The  offense  was  double.  I  had  turned  the  light 
upon  the  performance,  possibly  allowing  women  to  see 
the  gorilla-man  through  the  chinks  of  the  houses  ;  and  I 
myself  had  defied  him  by  looking  upon  him  with  unini- 
tiated eyes,  for  which  according  to  custom  I  ought  to  die. 
He  approached  me  whirling  about  and  contorting  his 
body,  roaring  the  while  like  a  gorilla,  and  brandished 
his  sword  very  close  to  my  face,  to  one  side  and  then  the 
other.  But  I  was  not  intimidated  for  the  sufficient  rea- 
son that  I  did  not  believe  he  would  touch  me.  Then,  as 


THE  FANG  247 

I  stood  my  ground,  he  thought  to  terrorize  me  by  his 
supernatural  powers,  which  the  native  would  fear  far 
more  than  a  sword.  He  brought  out  a  number  of  human 
bones  and  laying  them  on  the  ground  before  me  he  per- 
formed a  ceremony  which  was  supposed  to  bring  down 
upon  me  the  wrath  of  his  ancestors.  But  of  the  two 
dangers  I  was  rather  more  afraid  of  the  sword  than  the 
ancestors.  They  all  saw  my  indifference  and  concluded 
that  I  had  with  me  some  fetish  stronger  than  theirs  and 
powerful  for  my  protection  ;  and  they  resumed  the  dance 
while  I  looked  on,  having  first  accommodated  them  by 
turning  down  the  'light.  It  was  a  strange  sight,  these 
black  phantom-forms  darting  to  and  fro  in  the  dark,  like 
flitting  shadows  often  with  a  wriggling,  reptile  motion, 
and  shrieking  the  while  like  hobgoblins. 

I  have  already  spoken  at  length  of  the  African's  love 
of  story-telling,  and  have  given  many  examples.  The 
following  two  stories  are  types  of  a  large  class. 

The  elephant  and  the  gorilla  hate  each  other,  for  each 
thinks  himself  king  of  the  forest.  Meeting  one  day  in 
the  bush-path,  each  refused  to  step  aside  to  let  the  other 
pass. 

"Let  me  pass/'  said  the  elephant;  "for  these  woods 
belong  to  me." 

The  gorilla  beat  his  breast  and  made  a  noise  like  the 
sound  of  a  drum.  Then  he  replied  :  "  Oh,  Oh,  Oh,  Oh ! 
These  woods  do  not  belong  to  you.  I  am  master  here." 

The  elephant  would  not  move  aside ;  so  the  gorilla 
broke  down  a  tree  and  beat  the  elephant  to  death.  And 
the  proof  of  it  is  that  the  prostrate  tree  was  found  beside 
the  body  of  the  dead  elephant. 

The  sun  and  moon  are  great  enemies.  They  are  the 
same  age  but  each  claims  to  be  older  than  the  other.  The 
sun  is  the  friend  of  the  people  and  brings  daylight  and 
gladness.  The  moon  hates  people  and  devours  them  like 


248         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

insects  ;  she  brings  darkness,  witchcraft  and  death.  One 
day  the  sun  and  the  moon  had  a  palaver  and  got  very 
angry  at  each  other.  The  palaver,  as  usual,  began  by 
each  one  claiming  to  be  older  than  the  other. 

The  moon  said  :  "  Who  are  you  ?  You  are  nobody,  for 
you  are  alone  and  have  no  family.  My  equal  I  Indeed  ! 
Look  at  these  countless  stars.  They  are  all  my  people  ; 
but  you  are  alone. " 

The  sun  replied  :  Oh,  Moon,  mother  of  darkness  and 
of  witchcraft !  I  would  have  as  many  people  as  you  if 
you  had  not  killed  them  all.  But  now  I  have  taken  the 
people  of  the  world,  men,  women  and  children,  to  be  my 
family  j  and  I  love  them  all." 


XII 

FETISHES 

THE  Fang,  like  other  tribes  of  "West  Africa,  have 
a  name  for  God  and  they  conceive  that  He  is  a 
personal  being,  who  made  the  heavens  and  the 
earth,  and  created  man.  The  one  thing  that  they  will  say 
of  God  and  the  only  fixed  idea  regarding  Him  is  that  He 
made  everything.  The  world,  even  in  the  mind  of  the 
African,  is  an  effect  which  demands  a  cause ;  and  that 
cause  is  God.  But  since  they  have  no  conception  of 
God's  eternity,  by  the  same  principle  of  causality  they 
must  account  for  God  Himself.  So  God  has  a  father  and 
a  grandfather.  This  notion  of  a  divine  ancestry  is  evi- 
dently an  effort  of  the  mind  to  grope  its  way  back  to  a 
First  Cause. 

They  do  not  fear  God,  and  they  certainly  do  not  love 
or  reverence  Him.  Nor  do  I  know  that  they  ever 
worship  Him.  The  transient  observer  among  them  sees 
wooden  images,  evidently  objects  of  worship,  and  sup- 
poses that  they  are  images  of  God ;  but  in  most  cases,  if 
not  in  all,  these  are  images  of  ancestors  or  imaginary  per- 
sonages. He  figures  in  some  of  their  fables ;  but  His 
deeds  are  usually  wanton,  wicked,  or  immoral.  Most  of 
these  fables  would  not  bear  repetition.  God  is  simply  a 
magnified  African  chief  with  a  great  number  of  wives, 
most  of  whom  have  been  stolen  in  the  first  instance. 
God  takes  no  interest  in  the  world  that  He  has  made. 
He  looks  down  with  indifference  upon  all  its  cruelty,  its 
sorrow,  and  its  sin.  If  He  interferes  in  human  affairs  it 

249 


250        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

is  perhaps  to  make  mischief,  or  to  confuse  and  distress  men 
and  women  for  His  amusement.  The  most  that  the  na- 
tives desire  of  God  is  that  He  will  let  them  alone,  and  to 
this  end  they  let  Him  alone. 

Our  teaching  at  this  point  is  radical.  They  are  sur- 
prised to  learn  that  God  always  does  right ;  that  He  loves 
right  and  hates  wrong ;  that  He  loves  them  as  a  father 
loves  his  children  ;  that  their  sins  grieve  Him  and  that 
He  will  punish  their  cruelties.  We  divest  the  character 
of  God  of  all  that  is  filthy  and  wicked,  and  teach  them 
that  God  is  such  a  one  as  Jesus  was  while  on  earth,  even 
as  He  said  to  Philip  :  "  He  that  hath  seen  Me  hath  seen 
the  Father."  To  them  it  is  an  entirely  new  conception. 

Their  belief  in  a  future  life  is  very  clear,  although 
there  are  individuals  who  will  deny  it.  Their  belief 
finds  strong  support  in  dreams.  The  African  believes 
in  dreams  as  actual  occurrences,  and  they  relate  them 
one  to  another  with  great  earnestness,  which  perhaps 
tends  to  make  them  more  vivid  and  possibly  more  fre- 
quent. But  no  dreams  are  more  common  and  none  more 
vivid  than  those  in  which  friends  and  loved  ones 
appear  who  have  recently  died.  Those  who  hold  to  the 
evolution  of  all  our  ideas  from  natural  antecedents  have 
in  the  dream  as  regarded  by  primitive  people  a  plausible 
origin  for  the  belief  in  a  future  life. 

There  were  two  Mpongwe  women  of  Gaboon,  Tito  and 
Lucy,  whom  I  used  to  invite  regularly  every  Saturday  to 
come  to  my  Bible-class  on  Sunday  morning.  They  were 
as  regular  in  not  coming  as  I  was  in  inviting  them,  al- 
though they  invariably  promised  to  come  and  their  part- 
ing salutation  was  usually:  "Well,  good-bye,  till  to- 
morrow morning."  The  truth  is  that  Tito  and  Lucy 
were  not  Bible-class  women.  They  had  been  taught  in 
our  mission  school  in  the  early  days  before  the  French 
government  forbade  the  use  of  English ;  so  they  both 


FETISHES  251 

spoke  English  fairly  well.  Lucy  was  sometimes  called 
the  Mpongwe  queen,  for  she  was  head  of  the  family  that 
had  ruled  the  entire  tribe  in  former  days.  She  became  a 
victim  of  rum,  which  sent  her  to  an  untimely  grave.  Her 
family  told  me  that  during  the  last  two  years  of  her  life 
it  was  doubtful  whether  she  was  ever  sober.  Tito  had 
been  the  mistress  of  several  white  men  in  succession,  who 
had  either  died  or  had  gone  home  never  to  return,  and  as 
a  result  of  her  career  had  acquired  heaps  of  clothes,  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  jewelry  from  glass  to  gold, 
and  an  awful  temper. 

At  length  one  Sunday  morning  who  should  come  to  my 
Bible- class  but  Tito  and  Lucy  !— half  an  hour  before  the 
time.  I  felt  something  must  have  happened,  and  prob- 
ably something  wrong.  For  I  knew  that  my  invitation 
had  not  brought  them ;  still  less  their  promise.  That 
same  afternoon  I  was  passing  through  their  town  and  I 
stopped  to  ask  them  why  in  the  world  they  had  come  to 
Bible-class.  Then  Tito  explained  that  she  had  not  had 
any  intention  of  coming  and  that  she  had  promised  me 
just  because  "  it  be  proper  fashion  to  say  Yes,  more  than 
No,"  but  on  Saturday  night  she  had  a  dream  in  which  an 
angel  had  appeared  to  her  or  at  least  had  spoken  to  her 
from  the  next  room  and  had  told  her  that  she  and  Lucy 
"  must  go  to-morrow  to  Mr.  Milligan's  Bible-class."  In 
the  morning  she  told  Lucy  the  dream  and  they  both  de- 
cided at  once  that  they  would  come  to  the  class.  With- 
out scruple  they  could  disobey  from  week  to  week  the 
mandate  of  normal  conscience,  and  the  moral  law  of 
truth,  but  they  rendered  absolute  obedience  to  the  invalid 
experience  of  a  dream.  Afterwards,  however,  Tito  be- 
came a  regular  attendant  and  finally  she  was  received 
into  the  Gaboon  Church  and  became  a  faithful  Christian. 
She  was  by  nature  generous  and  she  was  especially  skill- 
ful and  kind  in  caring  for  the  sick. 


252        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Another  woman,  Ayenwa,  lived  in  Tito's  town,  who 
had  been  educated  in  the  mission  school  but  was  now  liv- 
ing as  the  mistress  of  a  white  man.  Ayenwa  was  a 
good-looking  woman  and  she  had  the  soft,  pleasant  voice 
that  is  characteristic  of  the  cultivated  Mpongwe  woman 
and  distinguishes  her  from  other  African  women.  I  had 
talked  to  Ayenwa  more  than  once  and  had  remonstrated 
with  her  in  regard  to  the  life  she  was  living.  But  al- 
though she  was  troubled  about  it,  she  had  made  no  change. 
At  length  a  brother  of  hers  died,  and  she  was  greatly  af 
flicted  by  his  death.  He  was  a  devout  Christian,  and  be- 
fore he  died  he  had  pleaded  with  Ayenwa  to  abandon  her 
present  way  of  living.  Much  as  she  loved  him  she  did 
not  yield  to  his  desire  and  counsel.  But  not  long  after 
his  death  she  came  to  me  and  said  that  she  had  left  the 
white  man  and  had  renounced  forever  that  kind  of  life  j 
although  she  was  friendless  since  her  brother's  death  and 
did  not  know  how  she  would  get  a  living.  It  was  owing 
to  a  dream. 

She  told  me  very  earnestly  and  in  beautiful  language 
how  that  she  had  seen  her  brother  in  a  dream.  She  had 
seen  him  in  a  forest,  but  the  forest  was  very  beautiful 
and  it  was  like  a  great  church.  He  smiled  when  he  saw 
her  and  he  called  her  by  her  name.  She  cried  when  she 
saw  him  and  she  told  him  how  she  missed  him.  He  told 
her  not  to  weep  for  he  was  very  happy  and  was  never 
sick  any  more.  But  he  told  her  to  remember  his  dying 
words  to  her,  and  so  to  live  that  when  she  died  she  would 
come  to  him  and  then  they  would  never  be  separated  any 
more.  For  several  days  the  dream  was  always  in  her 
mind.  Then  she  resolved  that  at  any  cost  she  would  for- 
sake evil  and  do  right.  And  surely  God  would  take  care 
of  her. 

Ancestor- worship  is  the  highest  form  of  African  fetish- 
ism, and  it  is  only  called  fetishism  because  the  ancestor's 


FETISHES  253 

skull  or  other  part  of  the  body  is  the  medium  of  com- 
munication. In  general  it  indicates  reverence  towards 
age  j  and  this  is  a  striking  characteristic  of  the  African. 
"Yet  I  have  known  of  an  instance  where  an  old  woman 
was  afraid  that  her  son  would  kill  her  in  order  to  procure 
the  help  and  favour  which  she  could  render  him  after 
death.  It  is  quite  likely  that  such  things  really  happen. 
At  any  rate  love  is  not  the  apparent  motive  in  ancestor- 
worship  ;  it  is  simply  the  hope  of  gain  by  obtaining  their 
favour. 

The  usual  fetish  of  ancestor- worship  is  the  skull  of  the 
father,  which  the  son  keeps  in  a  box.  The  father  occa- 
sionally speaks  to  the  son  in  dreams  and  frequently  com- 
municates with  him  by  omens.  He  helps  him  in  all  his 
enterprises,  good  and  evil,  and  secures  his  success  in 
love,  in  hunting  and  in  war.  All  those  who  have  these 
skulls  are  a  secret  society,  which,  as  I  have  said,  is  pow- 
erful to  rule  and  to  tyrannize  over  others. 

Young  boys  are  initiated  into  this  society  by  rites  and 
ceremonies  that  are  revolting.  The  initiation  varies 
widely  in  different  tribes  and  even  in  the  same  town 
there  is  no  uniform  ceremony.  No  white  man  could  ever 
witness  the  ceremony,  and  there  are  very  few  natives 
that  would  tell  him  all  about  it.  But  a  general  idea  he 
may  get  from  some  ;  and  single  details  from  others  at  dif- 
ferent times.  In  the  mild  ceremony  of  the  more  civilized 
Fang  towns,  the  boy  who  is  to  be  initiated  is  made  very 
drunk  and  taken  blindfolded  to  the  bush,  to  a  place  set 
apart  for  the  use  of  the  society.  The  ceremony  continues 
several  days.  In  one  part  of  it  the  bandage  is  removed 
from  his  eyes  at  midnight,  a  low  fire  is  burning  which 
gives  a  feeble  light,  and  he  finds  himself  surrounded  by 
the  members  of  the  society  with  faces  and  bodies  fright- 
fully distorted  and  all  the  skulls  of  their  ancestors  ex- 
posed to  view,  together  with  the  heads  of  persons  who 


254:        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

have  recently  died.  Some  one  asks  him  what  he  sees. 
He  replies  that  he  sees  only  spirits  and  solemnly  declares 
that  these  are  not  men. 

Boys  are  often  initiated  against  their  will.  One  of  my 
schoolboys,  a  handsome  lad  of  about  fifteen,  during  a  va- 
cation was  initiated  and  died  before  it  was  over.  It  is 
his  initiation  that  I  have  just  described — at  least  the  very 
small  part  of  it  that  I  was  able  to  find  out.  His  death 
made  them  more  unwilling  to  tell  me.  His  initiation 
lasted  several  days  during  which  he  was  compelled  to  re- 
main in  the  bush.  Further  up  the  river  a  boy,  during 
the  initiation,  is  usually  placed  for  several  days  in  a 
house  alone,  after  being  made  to  look  at  the  sun  so  long 
that  sometimes  he  faints,  and  when  he  is  taken  into  the 
house  he  cannot  at  first  see  anything.  Meantime  the 
door  is  closed  and  they  all  go  away.  Gradually  he  sees 
things  around  him  and  at  length  discovers  opposite  him 
a  corpse,  in  an  early  stage  of  decomposition.  He  is  kept 
there  day  and  night  during  the  ceremony.  The  men 
visit  him  and  subject  him  to  all  sorts  of  indignities  in 
order  to  impress  him  with  the  necessity  of  absolute 
obedience  to  the  society.  They  defile  him  with  filth, 
and  that  the  vilest  of  filth.  But  I  presume  that  the 
reader  will  gladly  excuse  me  from  any  further  description 
of  this  disgusting  practice.  One  cannot  omit  all  refer- 
ence to  such  things  if  he  would  describe  the  African  as 
he  really  is. 

They  believe  that  the  skull  of  the  father  or  other  an- 
cestor when  it  has  been  properly  prepared  becomes  the 
residence  of  the  ancestor,  who,  however,  is  not  confined 
to  it,  but  wanders  about  returning  to  it  as  to  his  home. 
The  son,  in  order  to  avoid  the  wrath  of  the  departed 
father,  and  to  obtain  his  help,  will  keep  the  skull  com- 
fortably warm  and  dry,  occasionally  rubbing  it  with  oil 
and  red-wood  powder,  and  will  feed  it  bountifully.  The 


FETISHES  255 

process  of  feeding  it  is  interesting.  The  son  before  going 
on  a  hunting  expedition  will  open  the  box,  and  address- 
ing his  father  in  audible  words  will  ask  his  favour  and 
will  promise  that  in  return  for  success  he  will  give  him  a 
goodly  portion  of  the  game.  If  he  should  neglect  this  duty 
for  a  length  of  time  he  may  find  when  he  meets  an  animal  in 
the  forest  that  his  gun  will  not  fire,  and  he  may  even  find 
himself  helpless  before  his  enemies.  The  white  man 
knowing  the  kind  of  guns  they  use,  does  not  think  it 
necessary  to  go  so  far  for  an  explanation  of  the  fact  that 
they  often  fail  in  a  critical  moment.  When  the  son  re- 
turns with  game  he  will  again  open  the  box  and  place  the 
meat  before  the  skull.  Then  he  will  close  the  house 
against  all  possibility  of  intrusion  and  he  himself  will  go 
away  while  the  father  eats.  After  a  while  he  comes  back, 
and  although  he  finds  the  meat  exactly  as  he  left  it,  he 
supposes  that  in  some  mysterious  way  his  father  has 
eaten  it  and  yet  left  it,  that  is,  has  eaten  the  spirit  of  it. 
He  then  eats  it  himself,  sharing  it  also  with  the  men  of 
the  society.  But  since  it  has  been  offered  to  the  dead 
father  it  is  now  sacred,  and  he  cannot  allow  his  wife  or 
children  to  taste  it  under  any  circumstances.  The  men, 
being  of  a  religious  turn  of  mind,  offer  to  the  father,  all, 
or  nearly  all,  the  game  they  procure,  and  if  women  and 
children  are  left  hungry  they  can  at  least  admire  the  fer- 
vent piety  of  husbands  and  fathers. 

It  is  only  the  skulls  of  men,  not  of  women,  that  are 
used  by  the  Secret  Society.  But  the  spirits  of  women  re- 
turn after  death,  like  those  of  men,  and  frequently  be- 
come very  troublesome.  On  Corisco  Island  there  lives  a 
man  who  has  been  in  contact  with  civilization  all  his  life- 
time and  is  fairly  educated  though  he  is  not  a  Christian. 
His  wife  died  ;  and  shortly  afterwards  she  began  playing 
pranks  in  his  town  and  even  in  his  house.  She  broke 
nearly  all  his  dishes.  Then,  one  night,  she  struck  him  in 


256        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

the  neck,  and  he  instantly  recognized  her.  His  neck  was 
stiff  in  the  morning.  That  proved  it !  Not  being  able 
to  strike  back  in  this  unequal  warfare  and  preferring  an 
enemy  whom  he  could  kick  (for  this  individual  wore 
shoes  and  scarcely  anything  else)  he  lost  spirit  and  finally 
pulled  down  the  entire  town  and  built  in  another  place. 
Women  and  children  never  possess  the  skulls  of  ancestors. 
The  power  of  the  ancestor  is  more  often  used  against 
women  than  others.  Among  the  Mpongwe  and  some 
other  tribes  a  woman  may  worship  her  ancestors  ;  for 
which  purpose  she  uses  not  skulls  but  wooden  images, 
which  she  never  exhibits. 

The  African  conception  of  nature  may  be  inferred  from 
what  we  have  said  of  their  view  of  God  and  their  worship 
of  ancestors.  God  having  made  the  world  seems  to  take 
no  more  interest  in  it.  Other  spirits  innumerable  control 
it  and  continually  interfere  with  its  normal  operations. 
Since  there  is  no  single  intelligence  ever  present  and  pre- 
siding it  follows  that  there  is  no  uniformity  in  nature  and 
no  reign  of  law.  Those  phenomena  which  attract  the 
African's  attention  he  ascribes  immediately  to  a  super- 
natural cause.  He  does  not  look  for  a  natural  cause.  If 
a  tree  falls  across  his  path,  somebody  threw  it.  The 
activity  of  spirits  accounts  for  everything.  There  is  no 
line  between  nature  and  the  supernatural ;  miracles  are 
always  happening.  The  causes  of  natural  phenomena 
being  supernatural  are  also  inscrutable.  The  study  of 
nature  and  the  investigation  of  her  laws  is  precluded  by 
this  conception. 

If  then  we  would  understand  the  African,  if  we  would 
distinguish  between  his  mentality  and  a  state  of  imbecil- 
ity, we  must  bear  in  mind  that,  since  according  to  his 
conception  innumerable  spirits  at  variance  with  each 
other  preside  over  nature,  uniformity,  constancy  and  de- 
pendability are  not  to  be  expected.  The  rainbow,  he 


FETISHES  257 

says,  is  a  serpent,  which  has  the  power  of  making  itself 
visible  or  invisible  at  will.  If  a  mountain  disappear  be- 
hind the  clouds  he  has  no  difficulty  in  believing  that  a 
spirit  who  inhabits  the  mountain  has  removed  it,  and  that 
he  brings  it  back  when  the  sun  shines.  The  white  man 
who  does  not  accept  this  explanation  and  demands  a 
natural  and  knowable  cause  does  not  thereby  manifest  a 
knowledge  of  nature  but  an  ignorance  of  spirits.  The 
canoe  which  carries  him  safely  to-day  may  lose  its  buoy- 
ancy and  sink  beneath  the  waves  to-morrow.  In  some  of 
their  fables,  at  the  utterance  of  a  magic  word  a  ship  may 
sink,  a  house  may  fall,  a  man  be  reduced  to  physical  and 
mental  impotence ;  and  such  fables  are  scarcely  distin- 
guishable from  fact  in  his  conception.  At  their  first  con- 
tact with  the  white  man  they  suppose  that  the  beads, 
cloth  and  other  goods  which  he  displays  are  made  by  him- 
self, by  some  magic  process,  as  easy  when  known  as  the 
utterance  of  a  word ;  and  they  suppose  that  we  could 
without  effort  make  them  as  rich  as  ourselves.  If  a  house 
or  a  town  should  burn  down  there  is  little  use  in  looking 
for  the  cause,  as  it  may  have  been  set  on  fire  by  some  an- 
cestor who  is  angry  at  being  neglected. 

When  Du  Chaillu  visited  a  certain  town  in  which  the 
people  had  never  before  seen  a  white  man,  regarding  him 
as  a  spirit,  they  all  declared  that  a  great  rock  near  the 
town  had  been  moved  by  him  and  was  not  in  the  same 
place  it  had  been  before.  This  inspired  them  with  dread. 
But  when  the  smallpox  broke  out  among  them  and  the 
scourge  followed  him  with  the  persistency  of  fate,  there 
was  no  doubt  in  their  minds  but  that  he  had  caused  it ; 
and  meanwhile  they  made  not  the  slightest  effort  to  pro- 
tect themselves  against  the  contagion.  They  regarded 
him  with  increasing  fear  and  hostility  until  at  last  his 
journey  came  to  a  disastrous  end.  He  and  his  party 
turned  and  fled  while  the  natives  pursued  with  poisoned 


258        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

arrows.  But  they  soon  desisted  from  the  pursuit ;  for, 
they  declared,  their  arrows  rebounded  harmless  from  his 
body,  and  sometimes  even  passed  through  him  and  did 
him  no  injury.  In  all  this  let  it  not  be  supposed  for  a 
moment  that  the  native  is  a  fool.  He  is  true  to  his 
philosophy  of  nature  :  but  his  philosophy  is  wrong.  He 
knows  nothing  of  the  doctrine  of  God, — of  one  Intelligence 
presiding  over  all  nature,  and  that  natural  laws  are  there- 
fore persistent  and  uniform. 

But  to  the  native  chaotic  conception  of  nature  we  must 
add  another  idea  of  fearful  import.  To  the  mind  of 
the  African  nature  presents  a  frowning  aspect,  from 
which  he  naturally  infers  that  the  spirits  which  rule  or 
reside  within  it  are  mostly  hostile  to  him.  It  is  only  to 
the  reflecting  mind  that  nature  seems  beneficent.  Her 
greatest  forces,  her  constant  ministry,  are  not  obvious. 
That  which  is  normal  and  regular  does  not  attract  atten- 
tion. A  man  thinks  more  of  the  one  month  of  sickness 
than  the  eleven  months  of  health  ;  he  is  more  observant 
of  the  storm  than  of  sunshine,  more  conscious  of  adversity 
than  prosperity.  The  laws  of  growth,  seed-time  and  har- 
vest, rain  and  sunshine — all  the  kindly  ministry  of  nature 
is  quiet  and  unobtrusive,  while  her  cruelty  thrusts  itself 
upon  the  attention  because  it  is  her  unaccustomed  mood. 
The  conception  of  nature  in  the  African  mind  is  derived 
from  the  devastating  tornado  and  the  storm  upon  the  sea 
that  threatens  to  engulf  him,  from  the  hard  work  neces- 
sary to  procure  his  food  and  the  scarcity  of  meat,  from 
sickness  that  disables  him  and  death  that  bereaves  him 
of  his  friends.  It  is  therefore  a  part  of  his  philosophy 
that  the  spirits  are  at  enmity  with  him.  His  own  an- 
cestors are  among  them  and  they  may  be  placated  and 
even  rendered  favourable,  but  a  far  greater  number 
are  hostile ;  and  the  motive  of  his  worship  is  not 
devotion  but  fear.  He  worships  the  spirits  of  his  an- 


FETISHES  259 

cestors  that  he  may  obtain  their  help  against  all  other 
spirits. 

Contrary  to  all  this  Jesus  teaches  him  to  call  God, 
Father  ;  and  God's  Fatherhood  includes  His  care,  which 
at  once  relates  God  to  nature,  for  it  is  largely  through 
nature  that  God's  care  is  exercised.  To  believe  in  God's 
care  over  us  is  to  believe  that  nature's  laws  are  the  opera- 
tion of  His  will.  The  mind  awakens  to  the  beneficence 
of  nature,  and  we  learn  that  even  storm,  disease  and 
death  are  under  the  control  of  a  sympathetic  Power. 
The  fear  of  the  native  is  changed  to  confidence  and  trust. 

Next  to  the  ancestral  relic  is  a  lower  form  of  fetishism 
in  which  the  external  object  is  the  vessel  or  residence  of 
a  spirit,  which  is  under  the  control  of  the  possessor  of  the 
object.  A  still  lower  form  of  fetishism  is  pure  animism, 
in  which  the  various  objects  of  nature  have  each  a  life 
analogous  to  that  of  man  to  which  their  phenomena  are 
due.  Witchcraft  is  a  supernatural  power  obtained  by  a 
person  through  a  compact  with  an  evil  spirit.  In  Africa 
witchcraft  is  also  fetishism  inasmuch  as  it  is  usually,  and 
perhaps  always,  supposed  that  there  is  within  the  witch's 
body  a  physical  object  which  is  the  residence  of  the  evil 
spirit. 

The  skull  or  other  relic  of  the  ancestor  diifers  from  the 
common  fetish  in  that  the  possessor  of  the  former  cannot 
compel  the  ancestor  to  do  his  will ;  he  can  only  persuade 
him,  or  induce  his  help  and  favour  by  offerings  and  kind 
treatment.  But  the  possessor  of  the  common  fetish  does 
not  make  offerings  to  it ;  the  fetish  is  under  his  control 
and  he  can  compel  the  spirit  within  it  to  serve  him.  If 
it  should  disobey  him  he  will  punish  it.  The  usual  pun- 
ishment is  to  hang  it  in  smoke.  Fetishes  have  a  horror 
of  smoke.  I  do  not  know  that  the  native  ever  punishes 
his  ancestor  for  refusing  a  favour.  If  he  should  leave  the 
skull  in  a  cold  or  wet  place,  or  should  neglect  offerings  of 


260        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

food,  the  ancestor  will  suffer  discomfort,  but  the  discom- 
fort is  slight  compared  with  the  evil  that  he  will  send 
upon  his  undutiful  son  as  a  punishment  for  such  neglect. 

In  the  proper  fetish  (if  the  word  fetish  be  restricted  in 
its  meaning)  the  spirit  resides  within  the  object  but  is 
not  a  part  of  it,  and  may  leave  it,  the  fetish  being  then 
of  no  more  use.  A  still  lower  form  of  fetish,  implying 
animism,  is  that  in  which  the  spirit  of  the  fetish  is  its 
own  life,  and  is  related  to  it  as  the  soul  to  the  body. 
This  latter  fetish  however  is  different  from  a  mere  amulet 
or  charm  ;  for  the  charm  operates  not  by  any  intelligence 
within  itself  but  by  some  sympathetic  influence  without. 
Such,  for  instance,  is  the  horseshoe  which  the  negro  in 
our  South  hangs  over  his  door  for  luck.  The  charm,  the 
fetish,  and  the  relic  represent  ascending  grades  of  belief. 
But  they  are  all  confused  in  the  mind  of  the  African,  just 
as  we  confuse  them  under  the  one  term  fetishism. 

As  long  as  we  live  in  Africa,  however,  we  do  not  often 
speak  of  fetishes,  but  of  medicines :  for  this  is  in  strict 
accord  with  native  usage.  The  native  calls  his  fetishes 
medicines,  and  his  medicines  fetishes,  and  in  his  mind 
there  is  no  difference.  The  remedial  power  of  medicine 
is  supernatural,  due  either  to  magic  or  to  a  spirit  residing 
within  it.  Upon  swallowing  the  medicine,  the  spirit  of 
the  medicine,  like  a  policeman,  chases  through  the  body 
after  the  spirit  of  the  disease  until  it  strangles  it  or  drives 
it  out.  Of  course  the  white  man's  medicines  are  fetishes 
also. 

The  following  story  (although  I  do  not  vouch  for  its 
truth)  illustrates  very  well  the  magical  operation  of 
medicine.  A  certain  chief,  it  is  said,  induced  a  German 
trader  to  order  for  him  a  chest  of  medicines  prepared  in 
Germany.  The  bottles  of  medicine  are  all  numbered  and 
the  chest  is  accompanied  by  a  book  of  directions,  com- 
petent for  the  diagnosis  of  any  particular  case.  Every 


FETISHES  261 

liable  symptom  and  combination  of  symptoms  is  recorded 
together  with  the  prescription  for  each.  The  prescrip- 
tion refers  to  the  bottles  by  their  numbers.  One  day  the 
chief  fell  sick.  He  found  his  symptoms  accurately  de- 
scribed in  the  book,  followed  by  the  direction  to  take 
one  spoonful  of  No.  15.  The  bottle  of  that  particular 
number  was  missing  j  so  he  took  one  spoonful  of  No.  7 
and  one  of  No.  8.  But  the  result  was  so  alarming  that  as 
soon  as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  shock  he 
consigned  the  chest  to  the  spirit  of  the  deep  sea  with  the 
hope  that  it  might  do  Neptune  more  good  than  it  had 
done  him ;  and  to  this  end  he  was  careful  to  send  the 
book  of  directions  with  it. 

There  is  a  large  class  of  fetishes  in  which  the  ancestor 
is  the  agent.  If  a  man  is  expecting  to  ask  a  favour  of 
another  he  will  be  sure  of  a  generous  compliance  if  he 
scrape  the  skull  of  his  ancestor  and  succeed  in  putting  a 
little  of  the  powder  into  the  other  man' s  food.  Du  Chaillu 
was  highly  incensed  when  he  found  that  this  was  the  ex- 
planation of  a  certain  chief's  generosity  who  had  been 
feeding  him  lavishly  for  several  days. 

A  man  walking  in  the  forest  usually  carries  suspended 
from  his  neck  a  medicine,  contained  in  a  goat's  horn,  the 
effect  of  which  is  to  make  him  invisible  to  an  enemy  if 
he  should  meet  him  in  the  path.  He  often  carries  another, 
somewhat  similar,  which  will  turn  the  bullets  of  an  en- 
emy's gun  into  water  if  the  enemy  should  see  him  and 
shoot  at  him  ;  or  sometimes  the  bullets  will  pass  through 
his  body  and  do  him  no  harm.  He  wears  a  band,  a 
"  kaga,"  about  his  neck,  which  tightens  at  the  approach 
of  danger.  The  explanation  of  the  latter  may  be  a  phys- 
ical fact,  namely,  that  fear  distends  the  cords  of  the  neck 
so  that  the  band  would  really  be  tighter.  He  carries 
another  medicine  in  a  horn  which,  if  danger  overtake  him 
in  the  forest,  or  he  should  be  in  need  of  help,  will  whistle 


262        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

in  his  town,  however  far  away,  and  summon  the  people. 
It  is  obvious  that  several  of  these  fetishes  are  quite  super- 
fluous if  the  others  are  to  be  relied  upon.  The  native 
therefore  does  not  fully  trust  his  fetishes  j  and  there  is 
always  the  fear  that  some  enemy  may  have  a  stronger 
fetish  than  his  own.  There  are  fetishes  to  protect  a  man 
against  theft.  One  of  these  will  cause  a  person  who  steals 
from  its  owner  to  "  swell  up  and  burst.7'  Indeed  there 
are  a  great  many  fetishes  used  for  various  purposes  which 
have  this  same  effect  of  causing  persons  to  swell  up  and 
burst.  Another  fetish  is  kept  in  the  box  containing  the 
owner's  cloth,  tobacco  and  other  goods.  If  a  thief  should 
open  the  box  this  fetish  will  spring  out  and  go  right 
through  him. 

Before  entering  upon  a  war  several  days  are  sometimes 
spent  in  the  preparation  of  war-medicine.  The  best  fetish- 
doctors  unite  their  skill  in  the  preparation.  It  is  medi- 
cine that  makes  the  gun  shoot  straight ;  it  is  medicine 
that  makes  the  bullets  kill ;  it  is  medicine  that  makes  a 
man  fearless  j  it  is  medicine  that  makes  cowards  of  the 
enemy.  The  French  government  brought  into  the  Congo 
Franpais  native  soldiers  of  Senegal,  armed  with  first-rate 
guns  and  skilled  in  the  use  of  them.  The  Fang  were  of 
course  eager  to  know  the  secret  of  their  powerful  gun- 
medicine.  Two  of  the  soldiers  who  were  in  personal  con- 
tact with  the  Fang  sold  them  little  tin  boxes  filled  with 
mud,  which  they  said  was  their  gun -medicine.  The  two 
enterprising  soldiers  were  " getting  rich  quick"  when 
the  government  required  their  prompt  attendance  at  the 
capital. 

Some  of  the  war-medicines  are  repulsive.  On  extreme 
occasions  they  will  sprinkle  upon  the  forth-going  war- 
riors an  admixture  of  the  decomposing  brains  of  men  re- 
cently deceased  and  the  blood  of  fowls  or  of  animals,  with 
other  disgusting  ingredients.  With  this  medicine  besides 


FETISHES  263 

others  which  are  suspended  about  his  neck,  the  smell  of 
such  a  hero  would  detract  somewhat  from  the  glamour 
of  his  exploits  j  and  one  can  imagine,  upon  his  return 
from  the  war,  the  people  holding  their  noses  and  singing, 
"Lo,  the  Conquering  Hero  Comes." 

There  are  other  fetishes  which  are  used  more  commonly 
to  avenge  private  wrongs. 

When  a  man  cuts  his  hair  or  trims  his  beard,  he  care- 
fully guards  it  and  then  burns  it,  lest  a  single  hair  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  an  enemy.  So  he  does  with  the 
cuttings  of  his  nails.  The  possession  of  these  would  give 
an  enemy  power  over  him  ;  for  they  are  the  common  in- 
gredients of  a  fetish-medicine.  A  piece  of  his  clothing 
may  also  be  used  in  this  way.  Such  medicine,  if  buried 
before  his  doorway  or  placed  beside  the  path  where  he 
will  pass,  even  without  coming  in  contact  with  him,  will 
inflict  sickness  or  disease,  misfortune  or  death.  Most  of 
the  evils  that  befall  the  native  he  attributes  to  the  power 
of  these  hostile  fetishes.  Only  the  most  devout  and  con- 
secrated Christians  are  entirely  freed  from  this  supersti- 
tion. Even  in  the  Mpongwe  Church  of  Gaboon,  the  old- 
est in  the  Mission,  there  are  many  cases  of  discipline  for 
such  beliefs. 

There  was  one  particular  case  that  came  up  in  some 
form  at  nearly  every  meeting  of  the  session  of  the  church 
for  more  than  a  year.  A  young  woman,  named  Anuri- 
guli,  was  married  and  a  short  time  afterwards  was  re- 
ceived into  the  church.  It  was  said  by  certain  of  the 
heathen  that  an  envious  woman  of  a  town  near  by,  who 
was  also  a  member  of  the  church,  had  made  medicine  to 
prevent  Anuriguli  from  having  children.  For  this  is  a 
great  affliction  and  reproach  to  an  African  woman.  Some 
half  dozen  families,  men  and  women,  became  entangled 
in  this  quarrel,  most  of  them  however  being  heathen. 
The  Christians  among  them  were  several  times  summoned 


264:    THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

before  the  session  of  the  church.  Each  told  his  story  in 
his  own  way  ;  the  native  way  is  to  begin  as  far  back 
towards  the  creation  of  the  world  as  their  knowledge  of 
history  extends,  and  leave  to  the  very  last  all  reference  to 
the  matter  in  hand.  There  is  a  notable  absence  of  em- 
barrassment in  such  a  discussion,  even  on  the  part  of  the 
women  j  nor  are  they  in  the  least  forward  j  in  fact  they 
are  not  self-conscious  at  all  j  for  no  native  ever  hesitates 
for  a  word  or  experiences  the  slightest  difficulty  in  ex- 
pressing himself  in  appropriate  language.  Anuriguli  de- 
clared she  had  never  accused  the  other  woman  of  making 
medicine  against  her.  She  had  heard  it  from  others,  but 
she  did  not  fear  such  medicines  since  she  had  become  a 
Christian  ;  although  if  the  woman  had  done  so  it  would 
indicate  a  feeling  of  extreme  hostility  towards  her  how- 
ever powerless  her  efforts  might  be,  and  this  enmity  was 
making  her  heart  sore.  The  other  woman  declared  her 
innocence,  and  that  for  years  she  had  not  believed  in  this 
superstition ;  nor  had  she  any  hostile  feelings  that  would 
prompt  her  to  such  a  wicked  action  ;  but  she  had  heard 
that  Anuriguli  accused  her,  and  the  accusation  was  hurt- 
ing both  her  feelings  and  her  reputation  ;  and  her  heart 
was  very  sore,  for  the  heathen  had  cast  bitter  reproaches 
upon  her. 

Having  given  much  advice,  but  too  little  sympathy,  I 
fear,  I  exacted  a  promise  from  each  and  all  of  them  that 
they  would  stop  talking  about  the  matter,  and  I  dismissed 
them ;  for  the  session  had  endless  work  ahead  of  them, 
some  of  it  more  serious  than  this.  The  result  was  that  it 
broke  out  afresh,  and  three  months  later  they  were  all 
before  the  session  again,  when  the  matter  was  more  com- 
plicated than  at  first.  Three  months  later  it  again  came 
before  the  session  for  the  third  time.  Auuriguli's  posi- 
tion had  somewhat  altered.  She  had  heard  that  the  other 
woman  said  that  she  said  that  the  other  woman  said  that 


FETISHES  265 

she  said  .  .  .  that  the  other  woman  had  made  medi- 
cine to  injure  her  !  And  still  there  are  those  who  assert 
that  the  African  is  not  intellectually  competent !  I  did 
then  what  I  wished  I  had  done  in  the  first  place — gave 
them  all  the  time  they  wanted  and  took  time  myself  to 
realize  that  fetishism  is  a  terrible  reality  in  Africa,  that 
public  opinion  recognizes  it  and  can  inflict  as  heavy  pen- 
alties as  anywhere  else  upon  those  who  fall  into  disrepute  ; 
for  the  African,  because  his  social  instincts  are  strong,  is 
very  sensitive  regarding  his  reputation.  A  patient  and 
sympathetic  hearing  ended  the  whole  matter. 

The  ingredients  of  a  fetish  are  usually  objects  associated 
with  that  which  is  desirable  or  that  which  is  fearful — the 
strong,  the  swift,  the  gruesome,  the  repulsive,  the  mys- 
terious and  objects  associated  with  death.  The  eagle's 
talon  is  commonly  used,  the  wing  feathers  of  any  bird, 
the  claw  of  the  leopard,  the  teeth  of  all  animals  and  their 
blood,  dried  bits  of  their  flesh  and  their  offal.  When 
Shakespeare  describes  the  contents  of  the  witches'  caldron 
and  their  invocation  of  trouble,  one  might  think  that  he 
had  been  a  missionary  to  the  Fang. 

' '  Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake, 
In  the  caldron  boil  and  bake ; 
Eye  of  newt  and  toe  of  frog, 
Wool  of  bat  and  tongue  of  dog, 
Adder's  fork  and  blind-worm's  sting, 
Lizard's  leg  and  howlet's  wing, 
For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble, 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble." 

1 '  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 
Fire  burn  and  caldron  bubble." 

When  the  fetish  is  not  merely  for  protection,  but  is  in- 
tended to  injure  a  particular  person,  it  must  include  such 
personal  ingredients  as  the  cuttings  of  the  hair  or  nails  of 
that  person,  or  a  shred  of  his  clothing. 


266        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Fetisliisin  and  witchcraft  inevitably  go  together.  A 
witch  is  in  league  with  an  evil  spirit  by  which  she  can 
leave  the  body,  and  return  to  it,  for  her  spirit  is  "  loose 
from  her  body."  She  "eats"  the  spirit,  or  life,  of  her 
enemies,  and  all  people  are  her  enemies,  innocent  or 
guilty  alike.  She  is  sold  to  evil.  The  African  does  not 
regard  the  spirit  or  soul  of  a  person  as  immaterial. 
It  is  a  thin  vaporous  material  which  resembles  the 
body  in  form  and  appearance.  This  is  perhaps  every- 
where the  conception  that  underlies  the  belief  in  ghosts. 
Primitive  people  generally  associate  this  spirit  with  the 
shadow,  and  sometimes  with  the  breath.  The  African  be- 
lieves that  a  man  may  lose  his  shadow.  Soon  afterwards 
he  will  die.  An  enemy  may  also  injure  it.  Many  an 
African  has  sought  to  kill  another  by  driving  a  nail  into 
his  shadow.  A  man's  shadow  is  big  in  the  morning  be- 
cause it  is  fresh  and  strong.  It  shrivels  up  with  the  heat 
of  the  sun.  It  is  evident  that  the  sun  afflicts  it  for  it  al- 
ways keeps  on  the  cooler  side,  away  from  the  sun. 

Many  tribes — whether  all  tribes  I  cannot  say — believe 
that  a  person  has  several  spirits.  It  is  always  the  spirit 
that  gets  sick,  and  any  one  of  a  man's  spirits  may  get 
sick,  or  may  leave  him.  In  the  latter  case  a  skillful  doc- 
tor will  be  able  to  catch  the  spirit  and  put  it  back  in  the 
man.  Madness  is  always  imputed  to  a  malignant  spirit 
inhabiting  a  man's  body  ;  such  a  spirit  may  be  born  with 
the  man. 

Their  chief  fetishes,  however,  are  for  protection  against 
witches.  In  many  houses,  immediately  inside  the  door 
there  hangs  a  fetish  which  at  night  builds  a  fire  around 
the  sleeping  inmate,  a  fire  invisible  to  all  others  but 
witches,  and  through  which  no  witch  can  pass.  Another 
has  the  power  to  change  the  bamboo  cabin  into  a  house 
of  stone,  through  which  witches  cannot  pass.  It  retains 
the  appearance  of  bamboo  in  every  respect,  and  one  can 


FETISHES  267 

see  the  light  between  the  pieces,  but  in  reality  it  is  solid 
stone,  with  no  openings  at  all,  not  even  for  the  door.  We 
are  reminded  of  another  miracle  whereby  bread  is 
changed  into  something  which  is  not  bread,  the  change 
being  non-apparent  since  it  takes  place  not  in  the  acci- 
dents but  in  the  essence  of  the  material.  So,  the  bamboo 
is  transubstantiated  into  stone. 

One  is  sometimes  mentally  staggered  and  feels  that  he 
is  losing  his  hold  on  reality  by  the  stories  of  Africans 
recounting  their  own  experiences  and  what  their  eyes 
have  seen,  stories  told  soberly  and  with  every  evidence 
of  sincerity.  A  man  tells  how  that  while  his  wife's  body 
was  in  her  bed  he  looked  out  into  the  street  and  saw  her 
spirit  form,  with  that  of  others  whom  he  recognized, 
armed  with  knives  and  cutting  up  the  form  of  a  person 
and  eating  it.  The  victim  whose  life  they  have  eaten 
sickens  soon  afterwards  and  dies  a  lingering  death. 

One  day  walking  along  the  Batanga  beach  with  a  fel- 
low missionary,  we  passed  a  large,  flat  rock  almost  sub- 
merged beneath  the  rising  tide,  which  recalled  to  my 
companion  the  following  story.  Some  years  ago  at 
Batanga  there  lived  a  man  who  had  long  suspected  his 
wife  of  witchcraft.  One  night  he  had  occasion  to  speak 
to  her,  but  she  did  not  answer.  He  tried  to  rouse  her 
from  sleep,  but  could  not.  He  concluded  that  she  was 
away  on  some  witch  errand  leaving  her  body  behind  her, 
as  witches  do.  He  himself  had  some  knowledge  of  witch- 
craft though  he  employed  this  knowledge  only  in  self-de- 
fense. He  anointed  her  body  with  red  pepper.  Witches 
abhor  red  pepper  ;  and  they  cannot  reenter  a  body  thus 
anointed.  Towards  morning  the  woman  returned  to 
her  body  only  to  find  that  she  was  undone ;  groans  and 
sighs  told  her  distress  to  the  ear  of  the  husband  who  lay 
quiet  as  if  asleep.  She  lingered  until  the  day  began  to 
dawn.  Now,  witches  are  afraid  of  light  even  more  than 


268        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  pepper.  She  retired  and  hid  herself  iiear  the  house  to 
await  the  next  night.  Meantime,  the  husband  related 
the  whole  story  to  the  assembled  people,  and  they  ac- 
cepted it  nothing  doubting.  They  resolved  to  burn  the 
body  immediately.  They  dragged  it  through  the  street 
to  the  beach  in  the  sight  of  her  own  family  and  her  chil- 
dren, amidst  execrations  and  insults,  and  burned  it  on 
the  rock  while  the  tide  was  low,  and  soon  afterwards  the 
rising  waves  swept  the  ashes  into  the  sea. 

The  Africans  do  not  say  of  a  woman  that  she  is  a  witch, 
but  that  she  has  a  witch.  She  commits  witchcraft  by 
means  of  the  witch  which  she  possesses.  And  since  every- 
thing has  a  material  body  of  some  kind,  the  witch  can  be 
found  within  the  woman.  Often  a  witch  rebels  against 
its  possessor  and  "eats"  her.  This  is  the  frequent  ex- 
planation of  convulsions,  and  a  convulsion  is  enough  to 
bring  suspicion  and  a  charge  of  witchcraft  against  a 
woman.  A  sure  way  to  find  out  the  truth  of  the  matter 
and  relieve  the  strain  of  suspense  is  to  kill  the  woman, 
open  the  body  and  make  a  conscientious  and  impartial 
investigation.  In  this  manner,  executing  the  sentence 
first  and  afterwards  finding  a  verdict  of  "guilty"  or 
"not  guilty,"  the  verdict  is  more  likely  to  be  just,  while 
they  also  avoid  a  prolonged  and  scandalous  trial,  and 
evince  a  delicate  regard  for  the  woman's  reputation.  Any 
old  thing  that  they  may  find  in  the  body  not  consistent 
with  their  ideas  of  anatomical  propriety  is  identified  as 
the  witch. 

Sometimes  a  hen  is  set  on  eggs  and  the  accused  person 
is  pronounced  guilty,  or  not  guilty,  according  as  the 
greater  number  of  chickens  hatched  are  male  or  female. 
But  this  kind  of  ordeal  is  more  common  in  deciding 
cases  of  adultery.  More  commonly  in  the  case  of  witch- 
craft a  certain  mild  poison  is  administered  to  the  accused 
in  a  drink.  Sometimes  she  vomits  it,  or  it  passes  with- 


FETISHES  269 

out  any  serious  effect.  But  if  she  becomes  dizzy  and 
staggers,  they  instantly  leap  upon  her  with  knives  and 
kill  her.  There  seems  to  be  no  such  thing  in  the  African 
opinion  as  a  natural  death.  All  deaths  that  we  call 
natural  are  imputed  to  witchcraft.  As  soon  as  the  cry 
of  witchcraft  is  raised,  the  people,  panic-stricken  with 
fear,  are  transformed  to  ferocious  demons.  With  wild 
eyes  they  rush  up  and  down  the  street  in  a  body  crying 
out  for  blood.  This  is  the  opportunity  of  the  witch-doc- 
tor, either  to  levy  blackmail,  or  to  rid  himself  of  his 
enemies.  When  a  woman  is  accused  by  him,  no  matter 
in  what  esteem  she  may  have  been  held  hitherto,  and  re- 
gardless of  her  family  connections,  the  people  turn  upon 
her  in  cruel  rage  and  can  scarce  wait  for  the  ordeal. 
Such  scenes,  and  the  violent  death  following  are  very 
common  among  them  ;  yet  the  white  man  rarely  witnesses 
anything  of  the  kind.  They  are  altogether  different  when 
he  is  present. 

One  of  our  missionaries  has  told  me  how  that,  in  the 
early  days,  on  Corisco  Island,  he  once  saw  a  condemned 
woman,  one  whom  he  knew,  taken  out  to  sea  in  a  boat. 
A  short  distance  from  the  shore  they  cut  her  throat  and 
flung  her  into  the  sea.  Meanwhile,  behind  a  rock  which 
hid  them  from  his  view,  they  burned  at  the  stake  the 
condemned  woman's  son,  a  young  boy,  lest  growing  up 
he  should  avenge  his  mother's  death.  Their  motive  in 
inflicting  such  a  horrible  death  upon  an  innocent  boy 
was  probably  to  disable  his  spirit  and  prevent  it  from  re- 
turning to  trouble  them. 

A  man's  wives  are  the  first  to  be  suspected  of  having 
caused  his  death,  as  they  are  usually  supposed  to  have  a 
latent  desire  for  it.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they  are  very 
skillful  in  the  use  of  the  deadly  poisons  which  abound  in 
Africa,  and  which  they  often  administer  in  food.  Much 
of  the  witchcraft  in  Africa  is  straight  poison.  A  native 


270         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

offering  one  drink  or  food  always  tastes  it  first  himself  in 
your  presence  to  show  that  it  is  not  poisoned.  It  is  an 
unsavoury  custom,  but  it  is  wise  to  observe  it  strictly. 
The  use  of  poison  is  a  peculiarly  unpleasant  habit  on  the 
part  of  a  wife  since  she  has  a  constant  opportunity. 
Slaves  also,  and  sometimes  white  men's  servants,  contract 
this  same  habit.  Truly,  life  in  Africa,  in  its  every  as- 
pect, is  a  fight  with  death.  It  is  possible,  as  some  say, 
that  the  practice  of  killing  wives  at  the  death  of  their 
husbands  has  this  origin ;  in  any  case  it  serves  to  re- 
strict the  use  of  poison  and  to  induce  wives  to  try  to  keep 
their  husbands  alive. 

Wives  accused  of  having  caused  the  death  of  a  husband 
by  witchcraft,  are  often  buried  alive  with  his  dead  body. 
A  Bulu  chief  near  Efulen  died  leaving  seven  wives. 
They  were  charged  with  having  bewitched  him  and  were 
about  to  be  buried  alive  with  him  when  Dr.  Good  reached 
the  town  and  saved  their  lives.  A  very  large  grave  was 
already  dug  in  the  street  and  the  body  was  laid  in  the 
middle.  The  women  lay  naked  and  trembling  upon  the 
ground.  But  the  people  would  not  perform  the  atrocious 
deed  in  the  presence  of  the  white  man.  Dr.  Good  stayed 
in  the  town  even  against  their  protest,  and  would  not 
leave  it  until  they  had  filled  the  grave,  and  he  knew  that 
the  women  were  safe.  In  one  of  the  Bulu  towns,  ten 
women,  wives  of  one  husband,  were  buried  alive  with  the 
body  of  the  husband.  In  another  town  twenty  women 
were  buried  thus  with  the  body  of  the  husband.  A  large 
grave  was  dug  and  the  body  placed  in  the  middle  ;  the 
women's  legs  were  broken  with  clubs  and  then  they  were 
flung  into  the  grave. 

The  belief  in  witchcraft  has  been  more  prolific  of 
cruelty  than  any  other  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It 
dehumanizes  men  with  fear.  The  story  of  the  power 
which  a  remnant  belief  in  witchcraft  has  exercised  in 


FETISHES  271 

civilized  and  even  Christian  communities  is  the  darkest 
page  in  their  history,  and  we  will  need  to  remember  that 
in  Africa  there  is  no  restraint  of  civilization  and  no  light 
of  Christianity.  I  am  always  afraid  that  the  depiction  of 
the  diabolical  cruelty  incident  to  the  belief  in  witchcraft 
may  cause  the  civilized  to  recoil  from  the  African  as  if  he 
were  less  than  human,  and  hopelessly  brutal.  It  is  there- 
fore well  that  we  should  insistently  remember  the  facts 
of  history  and  the  slow  emancipation  of  civilization  from 
this  same  belief  with  its  horror  of  cruelty.  Between  the 
promulgation  of  the  bull  of  Pope  Innocent  VIII  against 
sorcery,  in  1484,  and  the  last  judicial  execution  for  witch- 
craft, in  1782,  it  is  estimated  that  300, 000  women  perished 
in  Europe  on  this  charge.  The  last  execution  in  Eng- 
land was  that  of  Mrs.  Hickes  and  her  nine-year-old 
daughter,  in  1716. 

Since  a  particular  incident  makes  a  more  adequate  im- 
pression than  a  general  statement,  I  quote  entire  a  brief 
story  told  by  Froude  in  one  of  his  historical  essays,  The 
Influence  of  the  Reformation  on  the  Scottish  Character,  which 
he  takes  from  the  official  report  of  the  proceedings  in  the 
case  : 

"  Towards  the  end  of  1593  there  was  trouble  in  the 
family  of  the  Earl  of  Orkney.  His  brother  laid  a  plot  to 
murder  him,  and  was  said  to  have  sought  the  help  of  a 
•notorious  witch,'  Alison  Balfour.  When  Alison  Bal- 
four's  life  was  looked  into,  no  evidence  could  be  found 
connecting  her  either  with  the  particular  offense  or  with 
witchcraft  in  general ;  but  it  was  enough  in  these  matters 
to  be  accused.  She  swore  she  was  innocent ;  but  her 
guilt  was  only  held  to  be  aggravated  by  perjury.  She 
was  tortured  again  and  again.  Her  legs  were  put  in 
caschilaws — an  iron  frame  which  was  gradually  heated 
till  it  burned  into  the  flesh — but  no  confession  could  be 
wrung  from  her.  The  caschilaws  failed  utterly,  and 


272        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

something  else  had  to  be  tried.  She  had  a  husband,  a 
son,  and  a  daughter,  a  child  seven  years  old.  As  her 
own  sufferings  did  not  work  upon  her,  she  might  be 
touched,  perhaps,  by  the  sufferings  of  those  who  were 
dear  to  her.  They  were  brought  into  court  and  placed 
at  her  side  ;  and  the  husband  first  was  placed  in  the 
'lang  irons' — some  accursed,  I  know  not  what.  Still 
the  devil  did  not  yield.  She  bore  this  ;  and  her  son  was 
next  operated  on.  The  boy's  legs  were  set  in  l  the  boot' 
— the  iron  boot  you  may  have  heard  of.  The  wedges 
were  driven  in,  which,  when  forced  home,  crushed  the 
very  bone  and  marrow.  Fifty-seven  mallet  strokes  were 
delivered  upon  the  wedges.  Yet  this,  too,  failed.  There 
was  no  confession  yet.  So,  last  of  all,  the  little  daughter 
was  taken.  There  was  a  machine  called  the  piniwinkies, 
— a  kind  of  thumb-screw,  which  brought  blood  from 
under  the  finger-nails,  with  a  pain  successfully  terrible. 
These  things  were  applied  to  the  poor  child's  hands,  and 
the  mother's  constancy  broke  down,  and  she  said  she 
would  admit  anything  they  wished.  She  confessed  her 
witchcraft — so  tried,  she  would  have  confessed  to  the 
seven  deadly  sins — and  then  she  was  burned,  recalling 
her  confession,  and  with  her  last  breath  protesting  her 
innocence." 

We  civilized  folk  have  a  way  of  forgetting  our  own 
history,  and  the  pit  from  which  we  have  been  digged. 


XIII 

A  BOAT  CREW 

THE  following  is  the  beginning  of  a  letter  written 
to  a  circle  of  friends  in  America  while  I  was  in 
Africa. 

"  Seated  within  the  open  door  of  my  study  Hook  down 
the  hillside,  through  a  vista  of  gorgeous  oleander  and 
orange  trees,  of  graceful,  waving  palms  and  the  soft  cas- 
cade foliage  of  the  bamboo  tossing  and  tumbling  in  the 
breeze,  to  the  blue  expanse  where  the  Gaboon  rolls  out  to 
the  boundless  ocean.  The  early  afternoon  is  quiet,  and 
the  hazy  atmosphere,  peculiar  to  Africa,  blends  together  in 
gentle  harmony  things  most  diverse  in  form  and  colour. 
But  there  is  one  object  to  which  the  mind  and  eye  turn 
back  yet  again,  and  which  by  associations  variously  ten- 
der, pathetic,  or  amusing,  lead  memory  off  for  a  while  to 
wander  in  the  dreamy  mazes  of  the  past.  It  is  the  mis- 
sion boat  Evangeline,  which  lies  at  anchor  on  the  bay, 
rising  and  falling  with  the  successive  waves.  The 
Evangeline  came  to  Africa  many  years  ago.  Some  of 
those  who  commanded  her  are  now  infirm  with  age,  and 
the  voices  of  some  are  heard  on  earth  no  more.  Her 
special  work  has  always  been  that  of  itinerating,— carry- 
ing the  Gospel  of  light  and  peace  to  those  who  sit  in 
darkness  and  sorrow,  by  many  waters.  Like  her  name- 
sake, the  lonely  maiden  of  Acadia,  she  has  followed  the 
rivers  of  a  strange  land  and  streams  unknown  that  wind 
and  wander  through  'forests  primeval.' 

"The  Evangeline  is  a  gig,  twenty-two  feet  long,  having 
four  oars  and  requiring  four  oarsmen.     Her  lines  are  per- 

273 


274        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

feet,  and  for  her  size  she  is  a  remarkably  fine  sailing- 
boat,  riding  a  rough  sea  with  a  steadiness  and  lightness 
that  have  drawn  praise  from  old  seamen.  Before  the 
strong  sea-breeze  she  seems  fairly  animate  and  impelled 
by  motive  and  purpose  as  she  spreads  her  wings  to  the 
wind  and  speeds  forward  on  her  errand  of  mercy.  I  can 
think  also  of  sultry  days  when  her  sails  hung  loose  and 
heavy  through  the  whole  day  while  tired  men  pulled 
wearily  at  the  oars,  whistling  vainly  for  the  wind,  which 
ever  l  bloweth  where  it  listeth.'  I  can  think  of  toils  long 
and  hard  when  we  wound  wearily  through  mangrove 
swamps,  by  fetid  banks,  under  the  relentless  heat  of  a 
tropical  sun.  But  these  experiences  belong  to  the  past 
and  I  can  forget  them  now.  For  it  is  one  of  the  touch- 
ing frailties  of  human  nature  that  as  the  past  recedes  into 
the  obscure  distance  we  magnify  its  fond  and  pleasant 
memories  and  forget  the  evils  that  we  no  longer  feel. 

"My  long  journeys  in  the  Evangeline  are  probably 
past  5  for  a  naphtha  launch,  the  Dorothy,  has  arrived,  dis- 
pensing with  the  toil  of  oars  and  the  aid  of  the  fickle  wind, 
perfectly  protected  from  sun  and  rain  and  fitted  with  every 
comfort  for  day  and  night.  But  the  Evangeline,  though 
her  name  designates  her  as  feminine,  belongs  to  the 
ordained  clergy  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  and  has  not 
yet  passed  the  dead-line.  We  will  find  for  her  some  field 
in  which  a  few  years  longer  she  may  exercise  her  talents. 

"  This  afternoon  as  I  look  at  her  I  seem  to  see  the  faces 
of  faithful  boat-boys  who  journeyed  with  me  by  day  and 
by  night,  and  my  mind  is  filled  with  recollections  of  ex- 
periences and  incidents  by  the  way.  There  are  none  in 
Africa  whom  I  know  better  than  those  boat-boys  ;  and 
through  them  I  probably  know  all  Africans  better  and 
love  them  more.  For  when  sails  are  set  before  a  good 
wind  and  the  bow  tosses  the  waves  aside,  the  music  of  the 
plashing  water,  the  mutual  dependence  and  isolation 


A  BOAT  CREW  275 

from  others, — the  delight  of  it  all  makes  social  freedom 
and  comradeship  peculiar  to  such  life  ;  and  again,  when 
they  toil  at  the  oars  hour  after  hour  without  complaint, 
sympathy  breaks  down  all  barriers.  If  you  should  laugh 
at  these  boys  let  your  laughter  be  sympathetic  ;  they  are 
worthy  of  sympathy.  Life  is  so  hard  for  the  African,  so 
bare  and  comfortless  !  And  when  he  would  fain  seek  the 
road  to  the  Better  Land  so  many  forces  conspire  against 
him  that,  apart  for  our  faith  in  God  and  the  love  of  God, 
one  might  think  that  the  world  around  him  was  con- 
trived for  his  defeat.  In  this  dark  land  one  catches  only 
an  occasional  glimpse  of  the  all-ruling  and  kindly  Provi- 
dence in  which  we  believe.  It  would  seem  rather  that  the 
fabled  goddess  of  fortune,  blind  and  turning  her  wheel  in 
the  darkness,  dispenses  at  random  the  destinies  of  men." 

The  captain  of  the  Evangeline  was  Makuba,  a  man  of 
Benito,  one  hundred  miles  north,  one  of  the  Kombi  tribe, 
the  remnant  of  a  proud  and  capable  people  who  for  many 
years  have  been  in  contact  with  the  civilization  of  the 
coast.  The  Kombi  know  the  sea  and  are  excellent  boat- 
men, strong  and  daring.  In  travelling  in  their  own 
canoes  even  on  the  sea,  they  commonly  stand  up  in  the 
canoe,  using  long  paddles.  When  there  are  five  or  six 
men  in  the  canoe,  or  the  sea  is  rough,  it  is  interesting  to 
watch  them.  Makuba  was  a  man  of  splendid  physique 
and  very  strong,  and  as  bold  as  a  lion.  Shortly  after  I 
went  to  Africa,  when  for  a  while  I  lived  entirely  alone, 
at  Angom  Station,  seventy  miles  up  the  Gaboon  Eiver, 
a  serious  palaver  occurred  in  which  Makuba  took  a  prom- 
inent part. 

The  Fang  of  the  adjacent  village  stole  some  goods  from 
him.  He  and  several  other  workmen,  being  coast  men, 
were  regarded  by  the  interior  Fang  as  natural  enemies. 
I  was  morally  responsible  for  the  safety  of  these  coast  men 
and  I  regarded  myself  as  responsible  also  for  the  stolen 


276        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

goods.  Moreover  there  was  a  mission  store  at  that  station 
and  the  sight  of  our  goods  was  a  continual  challenge  to 
the  passionate  greed  of  the  Fang,  who  therefore  must  not 
be  allowed  to  think  that  they  could  steal  anything  from 
the  premises  with  impunity.  Indeed,  our  very  reputation 
and  evangelistic  success  were  involved  ;  for  it  was  plain 
that  the  Fang  had  been  mistaking  forbearance  for  coward- 
ice, and  in  their  esteem  there  is  nothing  so  contemptible 
as  a  coward. 

On  this  occasion  I  followed  strictly  the  native  mode  of 
obtaining  justice,  and  that  which  the  native,  with  his 
idea  of  the  solidarity  of  a  community,  recognizes  as  fair. 
A  few  minutes  after  the  theft  a  man  from  the  same  town 
to  which  the  thief  belonged  passed  through  the  mission 
premises.  I  gave  the  order  to  the  workmen  to  capture 
him  and  take  his  gun.  Makuba,  without  assistance, 
executed  the  order.  The  man  fought  him  violently,  but 
being  overcome  was  at  length  reduced  to  cursing  him  and 
predicting  the  various  horrible  deaths  by  which  he  would 
die,  not  to  speak  of  'everlasting  torment  that  would  be 
sure  to  follow.  The  indignant  Makuba  in  reply  tore 
open  the  front  of  his  shirt  and  exposed  an  ugly  scar 
upon  his  breast. 

"  Am  I  afraid  of  the  Fang  ?  "  he  cried.  "  Do  you  see 
that  scar  I  A  Fang  knife  did  that  in  an  attack  upon  my 
tribe,  and  I  alone  killed  the  man  who  carried  it  and  two 
of  his  friends." 

I  then  took  charge  of  the  gun  and  told  the  man  that  I 
would  return  it  as  soon  as  his  people  would  bring  me  the 
stolen  goods,  and  then  I  released  him. 

An  hour  later  some  thirty  or  forty  very  angry  men, 
armed  with  knives  and  guns,  and  shouting  their  war-cry, 
rushed  into  the  yard.  They  did  not  yet  realize  that  I 
was  going  to  take  up  the  palaver,  but  thought  they  had 
only  to  deal  with  the  workmen,  who  were  unarmed. 


MAKUBA,  CAPTAIN  OF  THE  BOAT-CREW. 

a  tornado  his  chief  anxiety  was  alii'ayx  for  the  tvhite  man,  that 
he  inialit  not  (jet  wet,  and  it  ivas  a  part  of  polite- 
ne*$  not  to  protect  Mmxelf. 


A  BOAT  CREW  277 

Their  intention  was  to  kill  Makuba  and  take  the  gun, 
which  they  supposed  was  in  his  possession.  They  ran 
past  the  end  of  my  house  towards  the  workmen7  s  house 
shouting  the  name  of  Makuba.  But  it  chanced  that  he 
was  at  the  other  end  of  my  house,  so  they  missed  him. 
Immediately  returning  they  saw  him  but  before  they 
reached  him  I  pushed  him  into  the  house  and  closing  the 
door  myself  confronted  them  and  addressed  them  from 
the  porch,  explaining  that  since  Makuba  was  in  my 
employ  I  was  bound  to  protect  him  ;  that  the  palaver 
was  therefore  mine,  and  they  would  have  to  fight  me 
first.  They  first  demanded  that  Makuba  be  delivered  to 
them,  but  at  length  proposed  to  accept  the  gun  as  a  com- 
promise. I  of  course  declined  the  compromise  and 
demanded  the  stolen  goods  for  the  gun. 

Finally  one  of  them  raised  the  cry  :  "  Let  us  kill  the 
white  man  and  take  the  store.'7 

This  may  have  been  a  mere  bluff.  I  am  disposed  to 
think  that  it  was  ;  but  I  did  not  think  so  that  day,  and 
one  cannot  be  sure.  It  was  in  a  Fang  town  much  nearer 
to  the  coast  and  to  the  French  government  that  Mr. 
Marling  was  once  robbed  of  his  very  clothing  and  left 
naked  in  the  street  of  the  village. 

The  idea  of  killing  the  white  man  for  the  goods  in  the 
store  became  uncomfortably  popular.  They  recounted 
all  the  grievous  wrongs  they  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of 
white  men,  and  missionaries  in  particular,  from  the  dis- 
covery of  Africa  down  to  the  present  moment.  They 
had  at  various  times  respectfully  advised  that  the  church 
be  closed  and  the  store  kept  open  all  the  time,  and  had 
been  told  in  reply  that  the  church  was  more  important 
than  the  store,  and  that  preaching  the  Gospel  was  our 
chief  work.  They  had  come  to  buy  goods  and  had 
found  the  store  closed  and  the  missionaries  holding 
prayers  with  the  people.  They  had  advised  that  we 


2T8        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

must  sell  goods  only  to  them  and  not  to  their  enemies 
and  had  been  told  that  we  loved  their  enemies.  They  had 
advised  that  we  lower  our  prices  on  all  articles  except 
those  that  they  did  not  want  and  we  had  seen  fit  to  fix 
our  own  prices  regardless  of  their  feelings.  They  had 
frequently  come  to  the  station  to  beg  a  little  present  and 
the  missionaries  had  affronted  them  by  offering  them 
work.  They  had  requested  tobacco  of  this  present  white 
man  and  in  reply  he  had  invited  them  to  Sunday-school. 
The  situation  had  become  intolerable  and  they  pro- 
posed to  recompense  full  vengeance  upon  the  aforesaid 
white  man.  The  older  men,  however,  advised  that  if 
they  should  attack  the  white  man  and  the  mission  it 
ought  not  to  be  done  by  one  town,  but  that  all  the  adja- 
cent towns  ought  to  be  engaged  in  it  so  as  to  spread  the 
responsibility.  This  advice  prevailed  and  they  decided 
upon  an  attack  that  night,  and  sent  messengers  to  two 
large  towns  some  distance  in  the  forest,  telling  them  to 
come  armed  for  an  attack  on  the  mission.  I  did  not 
suppose  at  the  time  that  we  had  a  single  weapon  of  de- 
fense except  the  old  gun  that  we  had  captured.  It  was 
already  loaded,  but  as  far  as  I  knew  we  had  no  ammuni- 
tion. I  immediately  set  out  to  search  the  premises,  and 
to  my  great  joy  found  a  rifle,  which  had  accidentally 
been  left  there.  We  found  plenty  of  ammunition  both 
for  the  rifle  and  the  gun  which  we  had  seized.  I  also 
ordered  the  men  to  catch  any  native  that  might  come 
near  the  premises  and  to  take  his  gun.  They  were 
greatly  surprised  when  they  heard  the  report  of  the  rifle 
and  immediately  recognized  it  as  "  a  white  man's  gun," 
of  which  they  have  a  wholesome  dread,  believing  also 
that  the  white  man  has  medicine  which  will  make  his 
gun  shoot  straight  and  absolutely  sure.  I  was  very  care- 
ful to  conceal  the  fact  that  I  had  only  one  rifle,  and  they 
were  quite  deceived,  supposing  that  I  had  a  suflicient 


A  BOAT  CREW  279 

number  for  all  of  us.  They  dispatched  messengers  a 
second  time  to  the  forest  towns  to  tell  them  of  our 
preparations.  They  all  came  together  that  night  armed 
for  war,  and  shots  were  fired  continually  during  the 
night,  but  no  attack  was  made.  When  I  afterwards 
learned  how  prone  they  are  to  experimentation  with  a 
new  comer,  I  realized  that  it  might  have  been  a  mere 
bluff.  No  one  can  tell  j  but  I  had  no  such  thought  at 
the  time.  Neither  did  Makuba  nor  any  of  the  workmen 
regard  it  as  a  bluff. 

All  the  workmen  excepting  Makuba  besought  me  to 
give  back  the  captured  gun  and  stop  the  palaver.  I 
brought  them  into  my  house  that  night  5  but  Makuba 
with  the  rifle  in  his  hand  insisted  upon  keeping  watch, 
and  walked  before  my  door  the  whole  night.  The 
matter  of  his  stolen  goods  and  his  personal  danger  were 
quite  forgotten  in  absorbing  anxiety  for  the  white  man's 
safety.  I  may  add  that  I  cut  off  all  communication  with 
the  people,  refusing  to  buy  their  supplies  of  food,  or  to 
open  the  store,  until  after  several  days  they  returned  the 
stolen  goods,  and  the  palaver  was  finished. 

A  short  time  after  this  I  made  Makuba  the  captain  of 
the  boat  crew.  He  knew  the  sea,  and  everything  about 
boats  and  was  perfectly  trustworthy.  But  these  qualifi- 
cations are  more  common  in  Africa  than  the  faculty  of 
discipline  and  command  which  is  by  no  means  common. 
Makuba  was  not  altogether  wanting  in  talent  for  dis- 
cipline, but  when  this  proved  insufficient  he  procured 
obedience  to  his  orders  by  diplomacy  and  argument ;  and 
for  that  matter,  the  greatest  sea-captain  dispenses  with 
argument  only  because  he  is  given  authority  to  punish 
and  to  put  in  irons,  which  requires  no  talent  at  all. 

But  all  Makuba' s  resources  of  discipline  and  diplomacy 
were  taxed  when  I  hired  Obianga,  a  young  man  of  the 
Fang,  whose  home  was  near  Angom.  Poor  Obianga  is 


280        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

dead  ;  and  I  would  not  make  cheap  jokes  at  his  expense. 
He  was  like  a  wild  unbroken  colt,  full  of  life,  willing  to 
work,  and  not  lazy,  but  resentful  of  the  bit  and  reins  of 
authority.  For  any  man,  especially  one  of  another  tribe, 
to  give  him  an  order  was  equivalent  to  calling  him  a 
slave  ;  and,  representative  of  his  tribe,  he  seemed  ever  to 
be  saying:  "  We  were  never  in  bondage  to  any  man." 

When  Makuba  would  shout  an  order  to  him,  however 
urgent,  even  if  a  tempest  were  approaching,  Obianga 
would  perhaps  tell  him  to  "  shut  up.77  Then  we  usually 
improvised  a  little  tempest  on  our  own  account,  Makuba' s 
indignation  being  the  turbulent  factor.  But  in  milder 
weather  he  would  try  persuasion  and  various  expedients, 
old  and  new,  always  prevailing  in  the  end. 

I  never  interfered  in  these  altercations,  though  I  some- 
times reckoned  with  the  offender  when  the  journey  was 
over.  More  than  once  Makuba  asked  me  to  dismiss 
Obianga,  but  I  would  not ;  for  I  liked  him  and  felt  that 
there  was  in  him  the  raw  material  for  an  excellent  man. 
Then,  too,  I  remembered  that  I  once  dismissed  another 
man  upon  Makuba' s  urgent  and  repeated  request,  and  no 
sooner  did  Makuba  hear  of  it  than  he  came  to  me  beg- 
ging me  to  take  the  man  on  again,  saying  that  he  himself 
had  been  .too  impatient,  reminding  me  also  that  the 
man  had  a  wife  and  child,  and  promising  that  if  I 
would  take  him  back  he  would  not  complain  of  him 
again.  Of  course  I  took  him  back ;  and  Makuba  kept  his 
word. 

The  worst  disputes  between  Obianga  and  Makuba  took 
place  when  they  supposed  that  I  was  asleep.  The  native 
when  he  lies  down  anywhere  sleeps  immediately.  When- 
ever I  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  they  always 
supposed  that  I  was  asleep  and  that  no  conceivable  noise 
could  waken  me.  During  one  of  their  quarrels  Makuba, 
with  a  voice  like  a  thunderbolt,  roars :  "  If  you  don't  do 


A  BOAT  CREW  281 

what  I  say  I  will  tell  Mr.  Milligan  that  you  have  two 
wives." 

"Sh — sh  !  Makuba,"  says  Obianga.  "What  did  you 
tell  me  to  do?" 

Such  altercations  as  the  following  were  not  uncommon  : 
Captain  Makuba  orders  Obianga  to  "  haul  away  on  the 
peak  halliards"  j  to  which  Obianga  promptly  replies  : 

"  Do  it  yourself." 

"I  won't  do  it:  you  will  do  it,"  says  Makuba  in  a 
threatening  tone. 

"  Are  you  my  father  I "  says  Obianga. 

"No,"  answers  Makuba  with  infinite  scorn.  "How 
could  a  Kombi  man  be  the  father  of  an  animal  like 
you?" 

"Then  stop  giving  me  orders,"  says  Obianga  with 
rising  wrath.  "  It  is  not  the  first  time  you  have  tried  it, 
and  one  of  these  days  you  will  find  out  that  it  won't  do." 

"  One  of  these  days  you  will  find  out  that  I  am  the 
captain  of  this  boat  and  that  you  will  have  to  obey  me," 
says  Makuba. 

"Not  as  long  as  I  can  carry  a  gun,"  answers  Obianga. 

By  this  time  they  are  standing  up  and  looking  hard  at 
each  other.  But  Makuba  would  not  think  of  striking  a 
man  in  a  mission  boat.  He  therefore  becomes  diplomatic. 
Suddenly  in  a  tone  altogether  different  he  says  : 

"  Obianga,  the  trouble  with  you  is  that  you  are  just  a 
bushman  ;  you  don't  know  anything  about  civilization. 
On  every  big  ocean-steamer  there  is  a  captain,  and  every 
man  on  board,  no  matter  what  tribe  he  belongs  to,  obeys 
the  captain." 

Obianga  becomes  instantly  curious  and  asks  :  "Is  he 
rich?" 

"Yes,"  says  Makuba,  "  he  gets  big  pay,  and  so  do  I 
get  big  pay." 

"How  much  do  you  get,  Makuba ? " 


282        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

"  How  much  do  you  think  ?  " 

Obianga  thinks,  as  well  as  he  knows  how,  his 
countenance  distorted  with  the  effort,  and  at  length 
answers  reflectively  :  "  Two  dollars  a  month. "  — He  him- 
self gets  a  dollar  and  a  half. 

A  broad  smile  engages  Makuba' s  features  as  he  slowly 
answers  :  "  Five  dollars  a  month." 

Obianga  gives  expression  to  his  surprise  in  a  long,  low 
whistle.  It  is  quite  evident  to  him  that  no  ordinary  per- 
son could  command  such  wages  ;  and  in  a  tone  of  utmost 
compliance  he  says  :  "  What  was  it  you  told  me  to  do, 
Makuba  ?  I  forget. ' ' 

"I  forget  too,"  says  Makuba.  "O,  yes,"  he  adds, 
"  I  told  you  to  haul  on  the  peak  halliards." 

Again,  it  is  night,  dark  and  stormy  :  a  tornado  seems 
to  be  approaching.  Captain  Makuba  shouts  the  order  to 
Obianga,  to  "  make  fast  the  jib-sheet." 

Obianga,  who  is  no  more  afraid  of  a  tornado  than  any- 
thing else,  and  whose  head  is  nodding  with  sleep,  tells 
him  to  mind  his  own  business. 

Makuba,  losing  his  patience,  of  which  he  has  not  a 
large  stock,  calls  him  a  cannibal — the  worst  insult  he 
could  offer  him,  and  adds:  "You  especially  like  to  eat 
us  Kombi  people :  you  say  our  flesh  is  the  best." 

"You  lie,"  says  Obianga  (the  current  form  of  polite 
contradiction),  "we  like  the  Bekeli  people  better  than 
the  Kombi  ;  there  is  more  salt  in  the  Bekeli." 

Do  not  conclude  from  this  that  Obianga  himself  is  a 
cannibal.  He  probably  never  tasted  human  flesh ;  but 
it  is  not  so  long  since  his  fathers  emerged  from  cannibalism 
but  that  tradition  still  distinguishes  between  the  flesh  of 
the  surrounding  tribes  ;  nor  was  Obianga  at  this  moment 
disposed  to  admit  that  Makuba  would  make  a  more 
savoury  dish  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us. 

In  spite  of  Makuba' s  anger  it  strikes  him  as  very  funny 


A  BOAT  CREW  283 

that  his  intended  insult  should  fall  so  wide  of  the  mark, 
and  he  laughs  "in  linked  thunder  long  drawn  out." 
There  is  nothing  more  contagious  in  Africa  than  laughter, 
and  Obianga  joins  in  it ;  and  then  of  course  he  obeys  the 
order.  Soon  after  this,  the  storm  having  passed,  they 
are  singing  together  "  I  have  a  Father  in  the  Promised 
Land,"  singing  it  well,  too;  and  while  they  sing  I  fall 
asleep. 

But  if  a  tornado  should  swoop  down  upon  us,  as  it  hap- 
pens so  often,  or  a  drenching  rain  should  catch  us,  the 
half  child  nature  in  Makuba  would  disappear  immedi- 
ately and  reveal  a  whole  man,  strong,  fearless  and  re- 
sourceful. In  a  tornado  no  man  knew  better  than  he 
just  what  to  do  for  safety  ;  and  in  a  rain-storm  his  only 
anxiety  seemed  to  be  for  the  health  of  the  white  man— 
lest  he  should  get  wet,  while  at  such  times  it  was  almost 
a  matter  of  politeness  with  him  not  to  protect  himself. 

Once  on  a  journey  of  three  days  on  the  open  sea,  from 
Benito  to  Gaboon,  I  was  miserably  sick  the  second  day 
and  could  not  eat.  Neither  would  Makuba  eat,  because 

I  did  not.     The  wind  was  contrary,  and  he  sat  at  the 
stroke  oar  pulling  hard  until  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
without  food.     At  last  almost  in  tears  (speaking  in  Kru 
English  in  which  he  and  I  always  conversed)  he  said  : 

I l  Mr.  Milligan,  hunger  no  catch  you  f    All  this  day  I  look 
you  and  you  never  chop.    Suppose  you  no  chop  you  go  die.  > ' 

Observing  for  the  first  time  that  his  own  food  had  not 
been  touched,  I  said  in  surprise  :  "What  for  all  them 
chop  live  same  as  morning-time  f  Yourself  you  never 
chop  all  this  day  ?  " 

He  replied  :  "  Suppose  you  no  be  fit  for  chop  then  I 
no  chop  ;  I  wait  you,  Mr.  Milligan." 

"  But  Makuba,"  I  said,  "  suppose  me  and  you,  all  two, 
be  sick,  then  what  man  go  take  care  of  me  ?  I  no  want 
other  man  ;  I  want  you." 


284        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Milligan,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  "  white 
man  have  plenty  sense  all  same  as  God  ;  black  man  be 
same  as  piccaninny. "  Thereupon  he  took  food  and  ate 
heartily,  for  he  was  very  hungry. 

I  received  Makuba  into  the  church  and  baptized  him. 
He  was  an  honest  man  and  a  faithful  Christian.  He  had 
a  mind  of  his  own  too,  and  was  quite  original  in  some  of 
his  opinions.  He  detested  every  form  of  affectation  and 
was  fond  of  saying  that  the  black  man  must  adhere  to  his 
own  habits,  customs,  and  fashions,  in  so  far  as  they  were 
not  sinful,  instead  of  imitating  the  white  man.  Nor  had 
he  any  respect  for  the  white  man,  whether  missionary  or 
trader,  who  would  fall  into  the  ways  of  the  black  man,  in 
speech,  or  dress,  or  manners.  I  quite  agree  with  him  as 
to  the  principle,  but  I  sometimes  was  at  variance  with 
him  in  the  practice.  For  instance,  when  Makuba  used 
the  boys'  bread-knife  to  trim  his  toe-nails,  and  they  ob- 
jected, he  invoked  this  favourite  principle  of  loyalty  to 
his  race  and  their  customs,  and  wanted  to  know  why  they 
affected  white  man's  ways  so  long  as  they  could  not 
change  their  skins.  Without  violating  the  delicate  senti- 
ment attaching  to  this  custom  I  tried  to  convince  Makuba 
that  there  were  many  black  people  in  the  world  who 
would  not  think  of  trimming  their  toe-nails  with  the 
bread-knife.  If  I  might  judge  by  his  polite  but  incredu- 
lous smile,  he  probably  thought  that  I  was  mistaken  on 
this  point.  But  if  Makuba  were  preparing  my  dinner  he 
would  do  it  with  scrupulous  cleanliness,  not  forgetting 
that  I  am  a  white  man. 

One  day  we  went  in  the  Evangeline  to  a  town  some 
thirty  miles  distant,  where  there  was  a  Christian,  Mba 
Obam  (usually  contracted  to  Mb'Obam)  who  was  the  uncle 
of  one  of  my  boat-boys,  Ndong  Koni.  Shortly  after  our 
arrival  Ndong  Koni  advised  that  we  should  hold  our  serv- 
ice before  night,  as  the  town  was  preparing  for  a  great 


A  BOAT  CREW  285 

celebration  (that  is  to  say,  a  great  dance)  that  night,  to 
which  they  had  invited  the  people  of  an  adjacent  town. 
The  occasion  of  all  the  revelry  was  the  end  of  the  term  of 
mourning  for  a  prominent  man  of  the  town,  who  having 
been  dead  a  whole  month  had  been  sufficiently  lamented. 
It  remained  only  to  give  him  a  good  "  send-off,7'  and  to 
release  his  friends  from  any  further  obligations.  During 
the  month  of  mourning  the  women  wail  every  night,  and 
there  is  no  dancing. 

Towards  evening  the  men  of  Ndong  Koni's  town  began 
to  adorn  and  decorate  themselves  for  the  fancy  un-dress 
ball,  using  paint  and  powder,  and  wearing  round  their 
ankles  strings  of  native  bells.  The  women  take  no  part 
in  these  celebrations  except  to  look  on  and  to  add  to  the 
noise.  When  they  were  all  ready  the  men  formed  them- 
selves into  two  long  lines  in  the  street,  with  the  drums  and 
other  wooden  instruments  across  one  end.  A  certain 
famous  dancer  performed  in  the  middle,  down  the  lines 
and  back,  to  the  beating  of  the  drums.  He  seemed  to  be 
all  joints,  and  he  passed  from  shape  to  shape  so  rapidly 
that  at  times  he  seemed  to  have  no  shape  at  all.  At  in- 
tervals all  the  men  danced,  keeping  their  places  in  the 
line,  but  at  certain  changes  in  the  music  whirling  to  the 
other  end  of  the  street,  and  back,  adding  also  a  wild  song 
to  the  beating  of  the  drums,  and  furiously  shaking  the 
bells  on  their  ankles,  by  which  means  together  with  a 
sudden  stamp  upon  the  ground  they  managed  to  mark 
time,  which  they  did  to  perfection,  and  to  add  rhythm, 
which  was  quite  fascinating  in  such  a  volume  of  noise. 

Among  the  tribes  which  have  been  longer  at  the  coast 
such  celebrations  are  attended  with  rum-drinking  ;  they 
are  also  continued  all  night,  and  before  morning  the  scene 
is  a  hideous  debauch.  But  the  Fang  have  not  yet  become 
victims  of  the  white  man's  rum,  and  I  know  of  no  wrong 
attaching  to  these  dances  of  the  men  except  that  they 


286        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

sometimes  get  excited  almost  to  frenzy  j  when  this  occurs 
they  are  not  unlikely  to  draw  their  knives  on  each  other 
upon  the  slightest  provocation,  thus  closing  the  celebra- 
tion in  a  free-for-all  fight  and  the  spilling  of  blood. 

"  Where  is  the  man  who  hath  not  tried 
How  mirth  doth  into  folly  glide, 
And  folly  into  sin  ?" 

Ndong  Koni  had  j  oined  in  the  frolic.  In  one  particular 
dance  they  used  firebrands  which  they  waved  before 
them.  Next  to  Ndong  Koni  stood  a  man  of  giant  size 
who  thought  he  had  a  grudge  against  one  of  the  family. 
When  the  excitement  was  at  its  height  he  suddenly  threw 
fire  in  Ndong  Koni's  face.  Ndong  Koni  was  only  a  boy 
of  about  nineteen  years  and  not  large ;  but  quick  as  a 
flash  he  struck  the  fellow  a  blow  in  the  face.  The  man, 
instantly  drawing  his  sword,  sprang  at  him  ;  but  Ndong 
Koni  had  already  drawn  his  sword  and  was  on  his  guard. 
In  a  minute,  as  it  seemed,  the  men  of  the  two  towns  sep- 
arated and  stood  facing  each  other,  a  sword  in  every 
man's  hand.  Then,  thrusting  and  parrying,  they  circled 
around  and  drifted  down  the  street  towards  the  place 
where  I  was  sitting.  Before  any  serious  wounds  were  in- 
flicted, the  chief,  Mb'Obam,  hearing  the  clash  of  swords, 
came  from  his  house,  and  running  between  them  at  con- 
siderable risk  to  himself  begged  them  not  to  fight,  espe- 
cially, he  added,  when  the  white  man  was  visiting  their 
town.  He  soon  succeeded  in  quieting  them. 

Meantime  I  had  been  occupying  a  seat  of  honour,  a 
real  chair,  or  the  venerable  remains  of  one  (probably  the 
only  chair  in  the  town),  infirm  and  unstable,  and  with 
one  leg  missing.  Here  I  was  maintaining  a  feeble  exis- 
tence against  a  fearful  onslaught  of  mosquitoes.  Another 
of  my  boat-boys,  an  old  man  of  Liberia,  named  Benjamin, 
was  near  me  when  the  quarrel  occurred  at  the  other  end 


A  BOAT  CREW  287 

of  the  street.  Benjamin  did  not  understand  the  Fang 
language  very  well.  He  heard  their  angry  voices  and 
saw  the  flash  of  their  swords  as  they  were  moving  towards 
us.  Hearing  them  also  call  out  the  name  of  the  white 
man,  Benjamin  reached  the  extraordinary  conclusion  that 
they  were  going  to  kill  me.  Quite  terrified,  the  old  man 
rushed  towards  me  with  the  cry,  ' '  O  my  master,  my  mas- 
ter ! "  and  flung  his  arms  around  me,  probably  with  the  be- 
nevolent intention  of  dragging  me  off  into  the  thicket,  or 
hiding  me  in  some  hole ;  but  the  chair  on  which  I  was 
sitting,  being  a  delicate  piece  of  furniture  and  lacking  a 
leg,  as  I  have  said,  was  overturned,  and  I  went  sprawl- 
ing on  the  ground  all  mixed  up  with  Benjamin,  and  won- 
dering whether  the  man  had  gone  mad.  By  the  time  I 
gathered  myself  up  and  got  my  parts  together  the  quarrel 
in  the  street  was  quieted  and  Benjamin  saw  his  mistake. 
No  further  misadventures  occurred  during  the  remainder 
of  this  pleasant  evening. 

Poor  Benjamin  !  We  shall  not  hear  of  him  again,  and 
we  may  dismiss  him  with  a  word.  That  was  the  last 
journey  he  made  in  the  Evangeline.  He  was  a  capable, 
hard-working  and  kind-hearted  old  man,  and  we  were  all 
attached  to  him.  But  rum  was  his  besetting  sin  and 
finally  his  ruin.  After  a  long  hard  struggle  against  it  he 
at  last  gave  up  the  fight  and  became  a  helpless  and  hope- 
less victim.  I  had  to  dismiss  him.  When  I  left  Africa 
he  was  in  a  native  town  near  by,  drinking  himself  to 
death  ;  nor  could  he  live  long.  But  so  great  is  the  mul- 
titude hurrying  down  this  same  broad  road  to  destruction 
that  one  more  old  man  would  never  be  noticed  in  the 
crowd. 

Ndong  Koni  who  figured  in  the  fire-dance,  was  the  one 
I  have  known  most  intimately  of  all  Africans,  and  the 
one  who  made  the  strongest  appeal  to  my  affections. 
He  was  a  handsome  boy,  as  light  in  colour  as  a  mulatto, 


288        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

of  gentle  manners  and  affectionate  disposition.  He  came 
to  me  and  engaged  as  a  boat-boy  shortly  after  I  began 
work  among  the  Fang.  I  taught  him  constantly.  He 
served  in  many  capacities  varying  from  boat- boy  to  cate- 
chist. 

Soon  after  Ndong  Koni  began  to  work  for  me,  I  vis- 
ited a  group  of  towns  in  the  interior  accompanied  by  him 
and  several  other  natives.  We  walked  nine  miles  by  a 
good  forest  path  and  then  travelled  twelve  hours  by  canoe. 
I  recall  that  on  that  journey  I  was  preaching  in  a  certain 
town  to  a  good-sized  audience  who  were  gathered  in  the 
palaver-house,  when  an  old  man,  seated  directly  in  front 
of  me  and  beside  an  anvil  upon  which  he  had  been  ham- 
mering, became  tired  of  my  sermon  and  deliberately  took 
up  his  heavy  hammer  and  resumed  his  work,  pounding 
the  anvil  with  a  deafening  noise  against  which  I  could 
not  proceed.  The  joke  was  plainly  on  me.  Addressing 
a  young  man,  I  asked  him  if  he  would  help  me  to  carry 
the  anvil  outside,  which  we  proceeded  to  do,  before  the 
old  fellow  realized  what  we  were  about,  taking  it  to  a  safe 
distance,  and  leaving  him  sitting  there  with  his  work  all 
around  him.  Thereupon  I  proceeded  with  "  secondly, " 
and  "  thirdly. " 

In  returning,  two  days  later,  we  started  in  the  canoe  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  the  boys  paddled  until 
seven  at  night,  when  we  again  took  the  forest  path.  We 
had  expected  upon  leaving  the  canoe  to  stay  all  night  in 
a  native  town  at  that  place ;  but  sure  symptoms  of  ap- 
proaching fever  warned  me  that  I  had  best  get  home  as 
soon  as  possible,  which  necessitated  a  walk  of  nine  miles 
by  night  through  the  forest.  The  road  was  somewhat 
open,  however,  and  the  path  well  cleared,  so  that  the 
journey  was  quite  possible.  The  men  were  worn  out  after 
their  long  day's  work.  When  I  told  them  that  I  wished 
to  go  home  that  night  their  first  exclamations  of  surprise 


A  BOAT  CREW  289 

were  followed  by  profound  silence.  I  said  :  "I  know  you 
are  tired  and  it  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  go  on 
with  nie  j  but  I  ought  to  have  one  boy,  for  I  am  not  sure 
of  the  road." 

Before  I  had  finished,  JSTdong  Koni,  although  the 
youngest  of  the  party,  had  my  food-chest  on  his  head, 
and  starting  off  said :  '  *  Mr.  Milligan,  I  too,  I  go  with 
you." 

In  all  my  journeying  in  the  Evangeline  Ndong  Koni  was 
with  me.  He  was  my  best  helper  in  the  religious  services 
in  the  towns.  He  was  boat-boy  and  preacher  and  often 
cooked  my  meals  besides,  for  he  was  always  willing  to  be 
called  upon  for  extra  service.  Upon  reaching  a  town  he 
would  take  the  organ  on  his  head  and  carry  it  into  the 
town,  where  he  would  find  the  best  place  to  hold  a  service, 
and  he  and  I  would  go  through  the  town  and  call  the 
people.  After  singing  a  few  hymns,  in  "which  all  the 
boat- boys  joined,  I  would  speak  to  the  people  a  while  and 
then  ask  Ndong  Koni  to  speak.  I  have  learned  my  best 
lessons  from  him.  Not  only  was  he  fluent  in  speech,  but 
with  lively  intelligence  and  unfailing  sympathy  he  adapted 
his  subjects  and  his  words  perfectly  to  his  hearers.  A 
more  kind-hearted  boy  I  have  seldom  known  in  any  land, 
although  cruelty  was  the  most  prominent  characteristic 
of  the  heathen  around  him,  of  whom  were  his  own  people. 
The  only  reason  I  can  give  for  this  contrast  is  simply  that 
Ndong  Koni  was  a  Christian. 

He  had  faults,  I  well  know.  But  I  am  not  the  one  to 
mention  them,  so  much  do  I  still  feel  my  indebtedness  to 
him  for  innumerable  kindnesses  through  all  those  years, 
in  which  he  journeyed  with  me  sharing  exposure  and 
hardship,  sharing  also  the  joy  of  preaching  the  Gospel. 

On  one  occasion  Ndong  Koni  went  into  a  French  trad- 
ing-house and  asked  for  something  which  he  wanted  to 
buy.  The  white  man  behind  the  counter  told  him  that 


290        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

he  did  not  have  the  article.  Ndoug  Koni  turned  to  go 
out,  but  the  white  man  called  to  him  and  said :  "  Why 
don't  you  buy  rum  instead  ?  " 

u  Because  I  am  a  Christian, "  answered  Ndong  Koni. 

The  white  man  railed  at  his  belief  and  told  him  his  own 
anti- Christian  beliefs. 

"  Well,"  said  Ndong  Koni,  "  if  I  believed  as  you  do  I 
would  drink  rum  and  do  a  great  many  other  things  that 
I  do  not  do.  But  as  long  as  I  am  a  Christian  I  shall  not 
do  those  things. " 

Once  at  the  close  of  a  school  term  when  I  was  taking 
the  schoolboys  home,  I  had  seventeen  boys  in  the  Evan- 
geline,  which  I  was  towing  behind  the  Dorothy.  We  had 
gone  about  twenty  miles  when  the  engine  of  the  Dorothy 
suddenly  stopped  and  refused  to  go  in  spite  of  all  my  ef- 
forts. I  found  afterwards  that  the  benzine  which  had 
been  sent  me  from  Germany  was  not  the  quality  which 
the  engine  required.  I  had  this  same  experience  fre- 
quently during  the  next  several  months,  and  after  start- 
ing out  with  the  Dorothy  towing  the  Evangeline  we  would 
return  to  port  a  few  days  later  with  the  little  Evangeline 
towing  the  Dorothy.  But  this  time  I  had  first  to  take  the 
boys  to  their  homes  leaving  the  Dorothy  at  anchor.  The 
Evangeline  with  seventeen  boys  in  it  was  already  crowded, 
but  myself  and  the  crew  of  five  men  squeezed  into  it,  and 
room  was  also  made  for  the  men  to  use  the  oars.  There 
,was  a  good  wind  but  we  had  no  sails.  The  tide  had  just 
turned  and  was  against  us,  the  current  was  strong,  and 
we  sat  in  that  cramped  position  for  ten  hours,  while  those 
faithful  boys  pulled  hard  at  the  oars  without  relief.  At 
midnight  we  reached  the  first  town,  twenty  miles  beyond 
where  the  Dorothy  had  stopped.  Here  we  remained  until 
morning.  Three  of  the  schoolboys  lived  in  this  town. 
The  other  fourteen  lived  in  several  different  towns  on 
other  rivers.  Morning  found  me  with  fever,  due  to  the 


A  BOAT  CREW  291 

long  exposure  to  the  sun,  for  which  I  was  not  prepared, 
not  having  expected  it.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should 
start  for  home  immediately  in  the  Evangeline.  But  what 
was  I  to  do  with  the  schoolboys  ? 

In  the  emergency  I  called  Ndong  Koni,  who  looked 
tired  enough  from  the  long  pull  at  the  oar  ;  but  he  said 
that  he  would  take  them  through  the  bush  to  their  homes. 
Of  all  the  boys  who  have  worked  for  me  in  Africa  there 
was  none  excepting  Ndong  Koni  and  perhaps  Makuba  to 
whom  I  would  have  committed  the  care  of  so  many  boys 
in  such  a  situation.  The  roads  which  are  but  poorly 
beaten  paths  lay  through  swamp  and  jungle  all  the  way, 
and  at  the  close  of  the  wet  season  they  were  at  the  worst. 
The  Fang  of  this  region  seldom  use  the  bush-path,  their 
towns  being  all  on  the  watercourses.  But  the  chief  diffi- 
culty was  the  danger  of  meeting  enemies  on  the  way,  and 
the  fact  that  certain  boys  must  avoid  certain  towns. 
Ndong  Koni  got  them  all  safely  to  their  homes.  But  im- 
mediately after  starting  he  found  that  the  smallest  boy 
had  a  sore  foot  and  walked  with  difficulty.  I  too  recalled 
this  after  they  had  gone  and  I  was  very  anxious  about 
the  boy.  Ndong  Koni,  however,  instead  of  letting  him 
walk,  or  of  sending  him  back  to  me,  carried  him  on  his 
shoulders  all  the  way  to  his  town,  more  than  ten  miles 
distant. 

The  sequel  may  be  of  interest  to  my  readers.  Before 
Ndong  Koni  left  me  I  had  engaged  a  man  to  take  his 
place  at  the  oar.  Knowing  from  dire  experience  the  un- 
reliability of  the  native  and  the  ease  with  which  he  ab- 
solves himself  from  the  solemnest  engagements,  I  told  this 
man  that  he  might  change  his  mind  and  cancel  the  en- 
gagement if  he  chose  to  do  so  before  Ndong  Koni  should 
leave  me,  but  that  after  Ndong  Koni  had  gone  he  would 
not  be  at  liberty  to  change  his  mind,  but  would  be  obliged 
to  accompany  me  even  if  it  should  require  a  flogging  to 


THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

persuade  him.  He  protested  that  his  feelings  were  badly 
hurt  at  the  suggestion  that  he  would  be  capable  of  break- 
ing his  promise  and  of  leaving  the  white  man  in  such  a 
distressing  predicament,  especially  this  particular  white 
man,  to  whom  he  owed  every  virtue  that  he  possessed, 
and  any  of  his  neighbours  would  be  glad  to  testify  to  his 
stainless  reputation  and  the  purity  of  his  life. 

Nevertheless,  half  an  hour  after  Ndong  Koni  had  gone, 
when  I  was  ready  to  start,  this  saint  among  savages  was 
missing.  I  called  him  and  hunted  for  him  in  vain  ;  nor 
could  I  get  a  man  to  take  his  place.  The  people  told  me 
that  he  had  gone  ahead  of  me  in  a  canoe  and  was  waiting 
for  me  at  their  fishing- camp  a  short  distance  down  the 
river — which  I  knew  to  be  false  for  the  simple  reason 
that  they  said  it  was  true.  I  asked  them  to  show  me  the 
.man's  house,  but  no  one  seemed  to  know  in  which  house 
he  lived.  His  own  brothers  could  not  tell  me.  A  bribe 
of  a  dose  of  salts  was  sufficient  to  induce  the  chief  to  lead 
the  way  to  the  man's  house.  The  door  was  a  large  piece 
of  bark  propped  from  the  inside.  It  yielded  to  a  vigor- 
ous push  so  easily  that  I  was  precipitated  into  the  house 
headlong,  my  feet  catching  as  I  passed  through  the  door 
and  my  helmet  as  usual  rolling  into  the  ashes.  The  man, 
I  believe,  was  hidden  within,  but  I  did  not  search  for 
him.  I  seized  a  large  earthen  jug,  used  by  the  women 
for  carrying  water  and  counted  a  valuable  possession,  and 
started  off  for  the  river,  the  whole  town  at  my  heels,  mak- 
ing a  deafening  uproar.  Many  were  in  violent  remon- 
strance and  others  were  laughing.  I  took  the  jug  aboard 
the  boat  and  ordered  the  boys  to  push  off. 

We  were  getting  under  weigh  when  the  missing  man 
appeared  upon  the  bank.  But  the  saint  had  reverted  to 
the  savage,  and  was  nothing  but  an  ordinary  cannibal 
threatening  to  cut  me  into  small  pieces  and  eat  me. 
While  the  boat  moved  slowly  towards  the  middle  of  the 


A  BOAT  CREW  293 

river  I  talked  with  him  and  told  him  that  if  he  wanted 
the  jug  he  would  have  to  keep  his  agreement.  He  at 
length  offered  to  go  on  condition  that  I  would  send  the 
jug  ashore  as  soon  as  he  came  aboard  and  not  take  it  to 
Gaboon,  for  it  belonged  to  his  wife.  I  agreed  to  this 
proposition.  He  probably  intended,  when  the  jug  was 
at  a  safe  distance,  to  leap  overboard  and  swim  ashore. 
But  once  I  had  him  in  my  grip  I  decided  to  take  no 
chances  lest  his  noble  character  might  suffer  another  re- 
lapse. I  made  him  lie  down  on  his  back  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat  beneath  the  thwarts,  and  I  seated  myself  on 
his  stomach.  The  whole  population  of  the  town  was  on 
the  bank,  and  rending  the  air  with  laughter,  in  which 
even  the  man's  wives  joined.  So  we  put  off  down  the 
river. 

After  a  while  he  respectfully  advised  that  it  was  no 
longer  necessary  for  me  to  sit  on  him  ;  that  he  could  not 
possibly  swim  back  to  his  town,  nor  walk  through  the 
mangrove  swamp  on  either  side  of  the  river,  and  besides 
he  was  needed  at  the  oar  for  he  knew  that  the  white  man 
was  in  a  hurry  to  reach  Gaboon.  As  to  the  proposal  that 
I  change  my  seat  I  told  him  that  what  was  at  first  a  mat- 
ter of  necessity  was  now  a  matter  of  choice  and  that  I 
could  not  be  as  comfortable  sitting  on  a  thwart.  But  one 
oar  was  idle ;  and  besides  I  was  deeply  moved  by  his 
anxiety  to  get  me  to  Gaboon  as  quickly  as  possible.  So 
I  relented  and  changed  my  seat,  while  he  crawled  out 
and  took  the  oar.  I  had  a  few  choice  bananas,  which  I 
asked  him  to  eat  with  me,  and  before  he  had  finished 
eating  we  were  the  best  of  friends  ;  and  so  we  were  ever 
afterwards. 

The  launch  Dorothy  (which  succeeded  the  Evangeline)  I 
usually  kept  anchored  well  out  on  the  bay,  giving  her 
plenty  of  cable.  It  was  always  hard  to  get  out  to  her  in 
the  evening  and  I  preferred  to  start  up  the  river  in  the 


294        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

quiet  of  the  morning  but  that  was  not  always  possible. 
One  evening  we  were  going  out  to  her  in  a  canoe,  pre- 
paratory to  a  journey,  when  the  sea  was  rougher  than 
usual,  and  we  had  a  misadventure  that  was  no  joke  at  the 
time.  In  the  canoe  were  eight  natives  and  several  trunks 
and  other  baggage.  Ndong  Koni  was  in  the  stern.  We 
soon  saw  that  we  were  overloaded  but  we  went  on,  the 
canoe  taking  water  more  and  more  rapidly. 

"We  can't  make  it,"  said  some  one  j  "let  us  turn 
back." 

But  to  attempt  to  turn  in  such  a  sea  would  surely  have 
swamped  us  j  besides,  we  were  more  than  half-way  to  the 
launch. 

I  gave  the  order  to  go  on,  and  every  man  to  pull  for 
his  life.  I  stood  up  and  urged  the  men  to  their  best. 
But  it  was  in  vain.  The  canoe  settled  deeper  in  the 
water,  which  soon  came  almost  to  my  knees.  At  last  it 
went  under,  in  eighteen  feet  of  water,  and  a  rough  sea 
that  no  white  man  could  swim  in.  Dear  reader,  if  you 
should  ever  find  yourself  in  such  a  situation,  a  hopeless 
distance  from  the  shore  and  the  craft  sinking  into  the 
depths  beneath  your  feet,  let  me  advise  you  above  all 
things  to  be  perfectly  calm.  Don't  worry.  Worry  will 
not  help  in  the  least. 

I  turned  to  Ndong  Koni  and  said  :  "Ndong,  if  my  life 
is  to  be  saved  I  guess  it  is  up  to  you  to  do  it." 

There  was  no  need  to  speak  to  him.  He  sprang  over  the 
heads  of  several  boys  and  into  the  water  after  me,  and 
catching  me  by  the  shoulder,  fought  the  sea  with  the 
other  arm.  The  canoe  came  to  the  surface  bottom  up- 
wards. The  natives  old  and  young  swim  marvellously, 
and  are  at  home  in  the  roughest  water.  We  tried  to  get 
to  the  canoe  but  a  wave  swept  it  away ;  then  another 
dashed  it  towards  us  and  against  us.  We  clung  to  it  as 
best  we  could  but  again  and  again  we  were  separated 


A  BOAT  CREW  295 

from  it,  and  again  dashed  against  it.  There  was  a  canoe 
with  several  natives  in  the  distance  ;  but  they  either  did 
not  see  us,  or  they  were  disposed  to  let  nature  take  its 
course.  We  might  have  been  devoured  by  sharks  but 
for  the  fact  that  there  were  a  number  of  us,  and  we  were 
making  plenty  of  noise.  But  some  men  on  the  shore  saw 
us,  and  calling  loudly  for  help  they  at  last  pushed  off  a 
large  canoe  and  came  towards  us,  the  captain  yelling  at 
the  men  to  pull  and  pull  harder.  When  they  reached 
us  we  had  been  twenty  minutes  in  the  water,  and  were 
taken  out  not  so  much  the  worse  except  Ndong  Koni, 
who  was  exhausted  and  bruised  by  the  canoe  striking 
him,  from  which  he  had  each  time  saved  me. 

When  we  reached  the  beach  I  am  sure  no  one  will 
wonder  that  I  said  to  him  :  "  Ndong  Koni,  if  I  had  a  son 
of  my  own  I  could  only  wish  that  he  were  as  brave  and 
unselfish  as  you  are." 

I  asked  him  what  he  would  have  as  salvage  for  saving 
my  life. 

He  replied  :  "  A.  tin  of  corned  beef  for  supper."  He 
seemed  to  think  that  was  enough. 

While  we  were  struggling  in  the  sea  fifty  schoolboys 
had  reached  the  beach  in  a  state  of  panic.  The  crying  of 
the  smaller  boys  was  hysterical  and  they  could  not  stop 
even  when  I  was  safe  on  land.  They  continued  to  cry, 
saying  the  while,  "  O  Mr.  Milligan,  what  would  we  have 
done  ?  For  you  are  our  father." 

At  last  I  dried  their  tears  by  saying  :  l  i  Look  here, 
boys,  I  know  what  you  are  crying  for  :  you  are  sorry  that  I 
was  not  drowned."  Every  face  was  for  a  moment  trans- 
fixed with  amazement,  as  they  stared  at  one  another. 
Then  they  all  laughed. 

Next  day  they  dragged  for  my  trunk  which  contained 
most  of  the  useful  things  that  I  had  in  Africa.  At  last 
when  the  tide  was  at  the  ebb  they  found  it.  Among 


296        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

other  things  which  lay  in  the  sea  over  night  was  a  French 
Testament  that  I  used  to  carry  with  me.  I  still  have 
this  relic. 

The  kindness  of  such  a  boy  as  Ndong  Koni  is  only  ap- 
preciated when  contrasted  with  the  awful  cruelty  which  is 
the  outstanding  feature  of  all  heathenism.  And  the 
cruelty  of  anger  or  fear  is  not  so  revolting  as  that  of  their 
deliberate  practice  and  ordinary  customs,  dissociated 
from  passion.  In  a  certain  town  at  which  we  anchored 
the  Evangeline  one  day  while  we  waited  for  the  turn  of 
the  tide,  we  found  a  woman  sick  and  evidently  dying, 
whose  wasted  form,  suggested  long  suffering.  K"dong 
Koni  knew  her  history  and  repeated  it  to  me.  She  did 
not  belong  to  the  town,  but  had  been  a  prisoner  there  for 
five  years.  A  petty  war  had  taken  place  between  this 
town  and  the  one  to  which  she  had  belonged.  A  woman, 
I  believe,  had  been  stolen,  and  then  some  killing  followed. 
At  the  close  of  the  war  the  people  of  her  town  had  to  pay 
a  dowry  and  they  agreed  to  send  a  woman  as  hostage 
until  it  should  be  paid.  This  poor  woman  who  had 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  palaver,  was  taken  from 
her  family  and  given  as  a  prisoner  to  the  other  town, 
while  the  guilty  man  and  woman  enjoyed  themselves  and 
paid  no  penalty.  Her  husband  had  probably  married  other 
wives  and  had  ceased  to  care  for  her,  and  he  was  willing 
that  she  should  be  sent.  They  never  ransomed  her,  but 
left  her  there,  a  prisoner  and  slave  in  the  town,  with  no 
protection  and  no  rights,  until  at  the  end  of  five  years 
she  died.  To  many  such  have  I  tried  to  tell  the  story  of 
the  Son  of  Man,  who  came  to  give  His  life  "  a  ransom  for 
many." 

One  day  we  visited  a  certain  town  which  was  not  far 
away.  Expecting  that  we  would  return  that  evening  I 
took  no  extra  clothing.  On  the  way  we  were  caught  in  a 
storm  and  my  clothes  were  drenched  with  rain.  I  could 


A  BOAT  CREW  297 

not  spend  the  afternoon  in  these  wet  clothes,  and  the 
town  possessed  no  clothes  that  I  could  wear.  But  the 
chief  had  a  table  and  a  table-cloth.  He  kindly  loaned  me 
the  latter  and  a  pair  of  shoes  that  had  perhaps  been  dis- 
carded by  some  white  man.  I  did  not  preach  in  a  table- 
cloth and  a  pair  of  shoes,  but  I  sat  and  visited  with  the 
people. 

Mb'Obam,  Ndong  Koni's  uncle,  died  not  long  after  the 
visit  to  his  town,  the  incidents  of  which  I  have  recounted. 
He  and  his  wife,  Sara,  had  for  a  long  time  lived  a  pure 
and  exemplary  life  in  the  midst  of  the  darkest  heathen- 
ism. When  he  died  the  people  accused  Sara  of  having 
made  medicine  to  kill  him.  This  medicine  is  a  fetish  and 
acts  supernaturally  :  it  is  not  necessary  that  it  should 
come  in  physical  contact  with  the  victim.  Mb'Obani 
had  died  of  a  lingering  disease  well  known  to  them. 
But  such  is  the  mental  degradation  incident  to  the  belief 
in  magic  and  witchcraft  that  effects  are  referred  to  a 
supernatural  cause  even  when  the  natural  and  physical 
cause  is  before  their  eyes.  Every  death  is  attributed  to 
magic  or  witchcraft,  and  if  they  are  not  forward  in  aveng- 
ing it  the  spirit  of  the  dead  one  will  inflict  misfortune 
and  even  death  upon  them.  Mb'Obam  had  completely 
broken  with  fetishism  and  had  discarded  all  these  beliefs 
and  had  bravely  defended  the  victims  of  native  cruelty. 
At  his  approaching  death  he  charged  the  people  not  to 
touch  Sara  nor  to  charge  her  with  witchcraft,  reminding 
them  what  a  faithful  wife  she  had  been  and  how  differ- 
ently they  both  had  lived  since  they  became  Christians. 
But  though  they  had  regarded  him  with  respect  and 
reverence  during  his  life,  yet  at  his  death  old  customs 
and  beliefs  asserted  tyrannous  authority,  and  they 
charged  Sara  with  having  killed  him.  It  fell  to  Esona, 
the  succeeding  chief,  to  decree  the  punishment  of  Sara. 
In  the  vicinity  of  the  French  government  he  would  not 


298        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

dare  to  kill  her.  So  he  led  her  into  the  middle  of  the 
street  before  all  the  people,  placed  her  on  her  hands  and 
knees,  and  bound  upon  her  back  a  heavy  load  of  plan- 
tain-stocks. Then  two  men  sat  upon  the  load,  on  her 
back,  and  all  the  men  of  the  town  drove  her  thus  up  and 
down  the  street  on  her  hands  and  knees  until  they  nearly 
killed  her.  As  soon  as  she  had  sufficiently  recovered  from 
the  effect  of  the  awful  ordeal  they  repeated  the  perform- 
ance, and  repeated  it  again,  until  Sara  managed  through  a 
Christian  boy  to  get  a  message  to  me.  Leaving  the 
school  I  made  ready  the  Evangeline  and  went  with  all 
haste  to  the  town,  thirty  miles  distant,  where  I  arrived 
just  in  time  to  stop  another  repetition  of  the  outrage. 
The  sight  was  too  much  for  me.  Mb'  Obam  and  Sara  had 
been  the  very  first  of  my  Fang  friends.  Whether  the 
impulse  was  noble  indignation  or  a  very  mortal  temper, 
the  reader  may  decide.  With  a  stick  which  I  carried  I 
flogged  Esona  the  chief  before  all  the  people,  and  there 
was  blood  on  the  stick  when  I  got  through. 

One  may  wonder  how  a  white  man  could  do  this  in  a 
town  of  savages  without  sacrificing  his  own  life.  I  may 
say  that  there  was  perhaps  not  another  town  on  the  river 
in  which  I  could  have  done  any  such  thing  and  have 
escaped  with  my  life.  Safety  in  such  a  situation  depends 
upon  the  extent  of  a  man's  influence  and  personal 
authority  in  the  particular  town.  It  is  the  part  of  wis- 
dom for  him  to  know  the  extent  of  his  influence  in  each 
town  and  the  part  of  discretion  never  to  overreach  it.  In 
this  instance  Esona,  breaking  away  from  me  like  an  animal 
frantic  with  rage,  shouted  for  his  gun  and  ran  towards 
his  house  to  get  it.  But  a  cry  of  alarm  was  raised,  as  I 
expected,  and  half  a  dozen  men  rushing  upon  him,  held 
him  fast.  He  broke  loose  from  them  and  others  joined 
him.  For  a  moment  it  looked  as  if  my  own  life  and  that 
of  the  crew  (except  Ndong  Koni,  who  was  related  in  the 


A  BOAT  CREW  299 

town)  were  forfeited,  and  the  fate  of  the  Evangeline  were 
like  that  of  the  famous  ship  which  was  left  — 

"  With  one  man  of  her  crew  alive, 
What  put  to  sea  with  seventy-five. ' ' 

But  they  caught  Esona  again  and  threw  him  to  ground, 
shouting  at  me  the  while  to  leave  the  town  as  quickly  as 
possible.  To  their  mingled  entreaties  and  curses  I  yielded 
a  tardy  compliance,  which  however  was  not  nearly  as  re- 
luctant as  it  seemed. 

There  is  a  sequel  to  this  story  also,  which  I  shall  re- 
late. This  chief  Esona,  whom  I  flogged,  announced  a  few 
days  later  that  he  was  going  to  marry  Sara.  He  already 
had  seven  wives,  and  the  thought  of  such  a  marriage  was 
repugnant  to  Sara.  But  she  had  no  choice  in  the  matter 
and  was  compelled  to  marry  him.  Polygamy  is  not  al- 
ways a  happy  institution,  even  in  Africa.  The  seven 
wives  were  angry  and  jealous.  Being  powerless  to  injure 
Esona  they  avenged  themselves  upon  Sara.  One  day 
shortly  after  the  marriage,  as  she  was  walking  along  the 
street,  they  suddenly  came  running  from  their  houses 
with  knives  and  attacked  her.  They  wounded  her  and 
would  have  killed  her  but  she  was  rescued  by  some  men 
who  happened  to  be  near.  A  woman  costs  money  and 
her  life  may  not  be  sacrificed  wantonly. 

Then  these  wives'tried  another  expedient.  Four  women 
in  succession,  coming  from  different  towns,  visited  Esona 
and  solemnly  told  him  that  they  had  had  a  dream  con- 
cerning him — all  four  of  them  in  'succession  relating  the 
same  dream.  They  had  seen  Mb'Obam,  Sara's  dead  hus- 
band, who  was  very  angry  that  Esona  had  married  Sara, 
and  threatened  all  kinds  of  plagues  and  finally  death,  if  he 
would  not  put  her  away.  A  few  days  later  their  word 
was  confirmed  when  five  houses  belonging  to  Esona  were 


300        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

burned  to  the  ground.  They  were  perfectly  aware  that  a 
certain  young  man  of  .the  town  had  accidentally  let  some 
live  coals  fall  upon  some  dried  thatch  and  the  fire  had 
started  forthwith.  Nevertheless,  with  one  voice  the  peo- 
ple attributed  the  fire  to  Mb'Obam,  and  Esona  in  great 
fear,  believing  that  his  life  might  be  the  next  forfeit,  let 
Sara  go.  After  a  period  of  various  trials  and  sorrows 
dire  fortune  at  last  relented  and  I  was  glad  to  learn  that 
Sara  was  comfortably  married  to  a  Christian  man. 

One  quiet  day,  as  we  were  pulling  up  the  river  in  the 
Evangeline,  seventy  miles  from  the  coast,  a  man  suddenly 
emerged  from  the  forest  and  came  rapidly  towards  us  in  a 
canoe.  When  he  came  near  I  recognized  a  Fang  friend, 
a  young  man  about  twenty  years  old,  named  Ingwa,  who 
had  been  one  of  my  first  boat- boys  in  the  JEvangeline,  and 
who  was  a  Christian.  After  a  hearty  greeting  I  said : 
"I  am  surprised  to  see  you,  Ingwa  ;  I  sent  word  to  you 
long  ago  that  I  would  like  to  have  you  again  in  the  Evan- 
geline,  and  I  have  not  heard  a  word  from  you."  But,  ob- 
serving that  he  looked  worn  and  sick,  I  asked  him  what 
was  the  matter ;  and  he  told  me  the  following  story  :  "  A 
year  ago  I  was  married  to  a  woman  whom  I  had  loved  for 
a  long  time  and  who  loved  me.  I  paid  the  dowry  and 
took  my  wife  home.  We  both  were  very  happy,  for  I 
loved  only  her  and  she  loved  only  me.  After  six  months 
her  father  and  brothers  agreed  with  another  man  to  take 
her  from  me  and  give  her  to  him,  wishing  to  make  friend- 
ship with  his  town.  Her  father  invited  her  and  me  to 
visit  him.  During  the  night  they  suddenly  rushed  in 
upon  us  and  made  us  prisoners.  They  tied  my  wife's 
hands  and  led  her  away.  Then  they  bound  me,  hands 
and  feet,  and  put  me  into  a  canoe  and  pushed  the  canoe 
out  into  the  current  of  the  river.  Far  down  the  river 
towards  the  sea  I  was  picked  up  by  some  people  who 
knew  me  and  were  friendly.  They  set  me  free  and  I  bor- 


A  BOAT  CREW  301 

rowed  a  paddle  and  reached  my  own  town.  But  I  could 
not  stay  there,  it  was  so  lonely ;  for  my  wife  was  gone 
and  my  heart  was  sick.  They  sent  her  to  the  other  man's 
town,  but  I  knew  that  she  loved  only  me.  I  hid  in  the 
forest  near  that  town,  but  I  could  never  see  her.  Six 
mouths  I  have  been  hiding  in  the  forest,  night  and  day, 
and  I  have  been  hungry,  and  sometimes  sick.  They  know 
I  am  there  and  are  trying  to  kill  me.  Her  father  sent 
word  to  me  that  he  would  pay  me  back  the  dowry  j  but  I 
want  only  my  wife.  And  surely  God  will  help  me ;  I 
will  meet  her  again,  and  she  will  go  with  me.  For  I  love 
only  her,  and  she  loves  only  me. ' '  The  story  ended  in  a  sob. 

With  a  hasty  good-bye  he  turned  and  sped  towards  the 
shore,  while  I  sat,  silently  and  with  aching  heart,  watch- 
ing, till  the  dark  form  was  merged  into  the  darkness  of 
the  forest  and  we  saw  him  no  more.  But  how  changed 
was  nature's  aspect !  How  different  the  impression  of  the 
hazy,  languid  atmosphere,  the  torpid  life  of  bird  and 
beast,  the  deep  mystic  forest  with  dark  forms  moving  like 
phantoms  to  and  fro,  screened  from  the  river  by  a  heavy 
veil  of  vine  and  flower  that  hung  from  the  tops  of  the  trees 
and  lay  upon  the  water  below  ;  and  behind  the  veil  a  real 
and  tragic  world  of  human  suffering  and  breaking  hearts  ! 

Not  long  after  this  Ingwa,  still  watching  and  waiting 
in  the  forest,  met  his  wife.  They  fled  together,  days  and 
nights  through  the  forest,  until  they  reached  a  town  far 
away,  which  Ingwa  had  once  visited  in  trading  for  rubber 
and  ivory  and  where  he  had  made  friends.  There  they 
were  still  living  when  I  left  Africa.  A  native  trader 
afterwards  visited  that  far  distant  town  of  the  forest,  and 
returning,  brought  me  a  message  from  Ingwa.  The  trader 
informed  me  also  that  he  found  the  people  of  the  town 
singing  Christian  hymns  and  praying,  and  that  through 
the  influence  of  Ingwa  many  had  thrown  away  their 
fetishes  and  were  followers  of  Christ. 


XIV 

A  SCHOOL 

THE  schools  of  the  Congo  Francais  are  under  the 
inspection  of  the  government,  and  there  is  a  law 
that  the  French  language  shall  be  the  language 
of  the  school.  It  has  been  very  difficult  for  an  American 
mission  to  comply  with  this  law,  and  when  it  was  first 
enforced  some  of  our  schools  had  to  be  closed.  It  was 
mainly  because  of  this  difficulty  that  several  stations  on 
the  Ogowe"  Eiver  were  transferred  to  a  French  Protestant 
missionary  society.  Our  missionaries  then  enlarged  their 
work  at  Batanga,  which  is  in  German  territory,  and 
opened  the  several  stations  among  the  Bulu  of  the  in- 
terior, a  work  that  has  greatly  prospered.  It  was  only  a 
few  years,  however,  until  they  were  required  to  teach  the 
German  language  in  the  schools ;  and  the  German  law 
was  as  rigidly  enforced  as  the  French.  There  was  also  a 
similar  law  in  the  English  colonies.  This  requirement 
had  been  regarded  as  unjust  and  as  a  great  hindrance  to 
the  success  of  missionary  work.  Personally  I  have  no 
quarrel  with  it  in  either  respect,  and  I  think  that  the 
mind  of  the  whole  mission  in  late  years  has  undergone  a 
change  on  that  subject.  Even  if  there  were  no  such  law, 
I  believe  that  the  ultimate  success  of  the  work  would  ne- 
cessitate a  European  language ;  and  that  language  must 
be  and  ought  to  be  that  of  the  governing  power. 

Of  course  the  people  of  the  various  tribes  must  hear  the 
Gospel  preached  in  their  own  native  tongue  ;  as  it  was  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  when  every  man  heard  the  word  in 

302 


A  SCHOOL  303 

the  language  in  which  he  was  born.  The  itinerating  mis- 
sionary must  use  the  native  dialects.  But  when  the  native 
becomes  a  student,  seeking  more  extensive  and  more  ac- 
curate knowledge,  the  native  dialect  is  beggarly  and 
wholly  inadequate.  If  ideas  require  words  for  their  con- 
ception, then  the  paucity  of  words  and  the  poverty  of  ex- 
pression make  it  impossible  for  the  student  using  the  na- 
tive language  to  think  as  it  would  be  required  of  him  in 
the  class-room.  The  acquisition  of  French  is  a  cultural 
factor  to  the  African  in  a  sense  that  it  is  not  to  the 
American.  For  most  of  the  French  words  have  no  exact 
equivalent  in  his  own  language,  and  such  words  present 
new  thoughts.  Moreover,  education  introduces  him  to 
the  world  of  books,  and  without  the  foreign  language  he 
is  confined  to  the  very  few  and  meagre  translations  that 
missionaries  may  make  into  an  obscure  dialect  of  a  small 
tribe. 

The  future  of  the  boys  also,  their  material  welfare,  de- 
pends largely  upon  the  knowledge  of  a  European  lan- 
guage. It  is  not  to  be  expected,  and  is  no  way  desirable, 
that  the  boys  of  the  schools  should  return  home  only  to 
"  sit  for  town  "  all  their  lives  according  to  native  fashion. 
Idleness  is  the  devil's  opportunity  ;  and  those  who  have 
been  in  the  schools  invariably  desire  to  work.  For  most  of 
those  in  the  French  Congo  work  means  employment  with 
white  men — the  government  officials  or  the  traders— and 
in  either  case  the  knowledge  of  French  is  necessary.  But 
others  of  these  boys  become  catechists  and  ministers  in 
after  years  and,  as  I  have  said,  if  these  are  to  be  educated 
they  must  know  French.  It  is  fortunate  for  the  mission- 
ary teacher  that  the  Africans  are  very  apt  linguists. 
They  have  but  small  talent  for  some  studies ;  in  mathe- 
matics they  are  usually  stupid,  but  in  the  acquisition  of 
languages  they  are  scarcely  surpassed. 

During  my  second  year  in  the  French  Congo  I  opened 


304        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

a  school  at  Baraka  with  a  small  class  of  boys,  and  grad- 
ually enlarged  it  until  in  my  last  year  there  were  seventy- 
five  boys.  The  whole  plan  as  projected  in  my  mind, 
which  it  took  several  years  to  establish,  was  to  have  one 
central  boarding-school  at  Baraka,  with  primary  day- 
schools  in  many  of  the  towns.  In  these  latter  the  people, 
old  and  young,  boys  and  girls,  as  many  as  wished,  were 
taught  to  read  in  their  own  language.  Boys  were  required 
to  be  able  to  read  in  their  own  language  before  being  ad- 
mitted to  the  boarding-school.  Eeligious  teaching  was 
an  important  part  of  the  curriculum.  Some  of  the  most 
advanced  Christian  boys  of  the  boarding-school  became 
catechists  and  were  sent  to  those  towns  where  there  were 
groups  of  professing  Christians  (catechumens)  awaiting  a 
course  of  instruction  before  being  received  into  the  church. 
For  no  converts  were  baptized  inside  of  two  years,  during 
which  time  they  received  a  careful  course  of  instruction 
as  nearly  continuous  as  possible.  Ultimately  some  of 
these  catechists,  I  hoped,  would  become  ministers. 

The  government  inspection  of  the  mission  schools  and 
the  strictness  of  the  law's  enforcement  in  regard  to  the 
language,  depended,  as  I  found,  not  much  upon  the 
amount  of  French  taught  in  the  school,  but  upon  the  good 
or  ill  will  of  the  inspector.  Shortly  after  I  went  to  the 
French  Congo  the  missionaries  withdrew  from  the  interior 
station,  Angom,  but  a  day-school  in  charge  of  a  native 
teacher  was  kept  open  for  some  time  afterwards,  which 
was  quite  outside  the  theory  of  the  plan  I  have  outlined 
for  the  town  schools.  It  was  a  regular  primary  school  in 
hours  and  curriculum  and  was  not  taught  by  a  catechist 
as  a  mere  adjunct  to  his  religious  work.  This  school 
therefore  came  under  the  government  inspection.  It  had 
been  exceedingly  difficult  to  keep  a  competent  teacher  in 
charge  of  it,  as  the  government  required.  Those  who 
knew  sufficient  French  to  teach  were  few  and  in  great  de- 


I  Ht 

UNIVERSITY 


A  SCHOOL  305 


mand  for  the  government  service,  in  which  they  received 
higher  wages  than  we  could  afford  to  pay. 

A  certain  Mpongwe  man,  Eemondo,  was  left  in  charge 
of  the  school  when  the  missionaries  withdrew,  but  only  as 
a  temporary  expedient,  that  the  pupils  might  be  kept  to- 
gether until  a  competent  teacher  could  be  procured. 
Eemondo  was  a  Eoman  Catholic,  but  he  was  quite  willing 
to  lay  aside  his  scapulary,  and  his  conscience  for  that 
matter,  for  the  slight  remuneration  incident  to  the  posi- 
tion. Eemondo  nearly  always  had  a  rag  on  his  toe.  Some 
of  his  pupils  had  not  even  that  much  clothing.  He  wrote 
his  name  without  a  capital  letter,  and  in  a  line  as  nearly 
vertical  as  horizontal  ;  and  the  obliquity  of  his  writing 
was  equalled  by  the  iniquity  of  his  French  ;  while  there 
was  such  an  uncertainty  about  his  addition  that  I  used  to 
say  that  mathematics  was  not  an  exact  science  in  Ee- 
mondo' s  hands.  Finally,  not  being  able  to  procure  a 
competent  teacher,  I  decided  to  close  the  school. 
Eemondo  was  amazed  and  hev  firmly  protested.  The  fact 
that  he  was  not  doing  the  work  made  the  position  all  the 
more  congenial  to  his  temperament,  and  made  it  also,  in 
his  opinion,  the  more  ungenerous  to  disturb  him.  Why 
close  the  school  t  Was  not  the  attendance  good  ?  Was 
not  the  discipline  perfect  ?  I  admitted  that  he  had  all 
the  accessories  of  a  good  teacher  and  lacked  nothing  but 
the  essentials.  Nevertheless,  my  mind  being  set  upon  it, 
I  closed  the  school. 

During  this  interval  while  Eemondo  was  in  charge,  I 
was  in  constant  dread  of  an  official  visit  from  the  chef  de 
poste  of  the  district,  who  would  naturally  be  the  govern- 
ment inspector  for  that  school.  This  dread  had  become 
chronic  when  one  day  I  was  amazed  at  the  receipt  of  a 
very  kind  letter  from  the  governor  himself,  informing  me 
that  the  chef  de  poste,  whom  he  had  directed  to  visit  the 
school  at  Angom,  had  reported  that  he  had  examined  the 


806        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

pupils  and  conversed  with  the  teacher  and  that  the  school 
was  highly  satisfactory  in  every  way  and  a  credit  to  the 
mission.  The  governor  hoped  that  we  might  open  other 
schools  of  the  same  kind  !  Goodness  gracious !  I  lost  no 
time  in  making  inquiry  of  a  certain  official  as  to  who  was 
the  chef  de  poste  of  that  district — for  I  knew  there  had 

been  a  change  lately.  He  replied  :  "  M.  de  la  E ." 

Then  I  understood  it  all. 

The  late  M.  de  la  E had  already  been  in  the  service 

of  the  Congo  Frangais  for  thirteen  years  when  I  first  met 
him.  He  endured  the  climate  remarkably  well  and  only 
at  long  intervals  returned  to  France  on  furlough.  He 
belonged  to  a  good  family.  He  also  had  a  wife  and  chil- 
dren in  France.  His  wife  once  went  to  Africa  with  him 
but  she  soon  returned  home  ;  I  was  told  that  she  was  a 
fine  woman  ;  he  himself  when  I  met  him  was  the  pitiful 
remains  of  a  gentleman  who  had  been  ruined  by  the  two 
vices  which  have  made  West  Africa  in  many  minds  a 
synonym  for  perdition.  During  his  first  years  he  was 
faithful  in  his  official  duties  and  he  rose  in  the  service. 
He  was  at  one  time  administrator  at  Bata,  not  far  from 
our  mission  station,  Benito.  It  was  under  the  adminis- 
tration of  this  very  man  that  our  long-established  schools 
at  Benito  were  closed  by  the  government  on  the  ground 
that  the  law  in  regard  to  the  French  language  was  not  be- 
ing strictly  observed.  But  our  missionaries  of  that  station 

believed  that  the  action  of  M.  de  la  E was  due  to  the 

influence  of  the  French  priests. 

After  many  years  of  increasing  dissipation  he  was  dis- 
missed from  the  service  for  various  discrepancies.  His 
health  was  not  good,  and  he  was  prematurely  old.  He 
had  not  been  in  France  for  many  years,  and  he  said  that 
he  would  never  go  there  again.  Thus  he  was  an  outcast 
and  without  means  of  support  in  a  foreign  and  hostile 
climate.  At  length  a  certain  trader  of  Libreville  took 


A  SCHOOL  307 

pity  on  him.  Eight  miles  back  in  the  bush,  the  trader 
had  a  coffee-farm  that  had  about  petered  out ;  and  there 
he  sent  the  ex-administrator,  and  gave  him  employment 
for  which  he  paid  him  enough  to  keep  him  alive.  He 
lived  alone  there  for  more  than  a  year,  separate  from  all 
white  men,  a  black  mistress  his  only  companion. 

One  day  visiting  some  interior  towns,  I  followed  a  road 
that  passed  through  the  farm.  I  was  greatly  surprised  at 
seeing  a  white  man  there,  but  not  at  all  surprised  that  in 
such  a  place  he  was  dressed  only  in  pajamas.  Leaving 
the  road  I  went  to  the  house  to  salute  him.  He  told  me 
who  he  was  and  urged  me  not  to  hurry  on  but  to  stay 
with  him  awhile  ;  it  was  so  good  to  see  a  white  man.  I 
felt  so  sorry  for  him  that  I  thought  I  could  do  no  better 
missionary  work  for  that  day  than  to  visit  with  him  j  so 
I  changed  my  plans  accordingly,  remained  with  him  all 
morning  and  ate  dinner  with  him,  the  table  being  served 
by  his  black  mistress.  I  thought  he  would  probably  live 
but  a  short  time  and  I  felt  as  if  I  were  performing  his 
obsequies.  It  is  strange  how  a  man  whose  dignity  resides 
not  within  himself,  but  wholly  in  outward  circumstances, 
in  social  position,  in  pecuniary  abundance,  or  the  tawdry 
pomp  of  authority, — it  is  strange  how  such  a  man,  when 
these  all  fail,  sinks  in  his  self-respect  to  the  level  of  abject 
prostration.  M.  de  la  E had  been  fastidiously  regard- 
ful of  his  dress  and  his  personal  appearance  ;  but  now  he 
spent  his  days  in  shabby  pajamas  and  even  shunned  the 
acquaintance  of  soap  and  water. 

He  spent  the  whole  time  of  my  visit  in  telling  me  of  the 
wrongs  done  him  by  fellow  officials,  that  had  culminated 
in  his  dismissal  from  the  government  service.  He  shed 
some  tears  and  I  fancied  that  they  made  clean  streaks 
down  his  face.  He  told  me  what  a  respectable  life  he 
had  lived  ;  and  I  declare  that  I  should  never  have  sus- 
pected it.  But  when  he  also  claimed  sobriety  as  one  of 


308        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFEICA 

his  chief  virtues,  nothing  but  the  odour  of  his  breath  kept 
nie  from  becoming  an  anti-temperance  fanatic  on  the 
spot.  Several  of  the  men  who  had  informed  against  him 
had  since  died,  and  in  this  he  saw  the  finger  of  God  ;  for 
of  course  they  would  never  have  died  if  they  had  not 
been  his  enemies.  He,  the  animated  remains  of  M.  de 
la  E ,  was  still  the  centre  and  explanation  of  the  gov- 
ernment of  the  universe,  and  God  was  simply  a  con- 
venient instrument  of  vengeance.  To  that  extent  he  was 
quite  religious.  And  I  ought  to  add  that  he  believed  in 
forgiving  his  enemies — but  only  after  they  were  dead. 
But  I  pitied  him  greatly,  and  stayed  with  him  most  of 
the  day.  When  I  left  him  I  had  not  the  least  expectation 
that  I  would  ever  see  him  again. 

A  year  after  this,  by  a  strange  turn  of  the  wheel  of 
fortune,  this  man  was  reinstated,  and  was  appointed  a 
chef  de  poste.  He  easily  resumed  his  former  dignity  of 
manner  and  care  of  dress.  But  he  lived  only  a  few 
months  to  enjoy  his  recovered  prestige.  During  those 
months,  however,  he  was  appointed  to  inspect  the  school 
at  Angom  and  his  enthusiastic  report  (for  which  I  hope 
he  may  have  been  forgiven)  was  the  expression  of  his 
gratitude  for  the  visit  I  had  made  him  when  he  was  with- 
out position,  without  money  and  without  friends.  Thus 
the  bread  of  a  little  kindness  cast  upon  the  waters  re- 
turned after  many  days  multiplied  into  loaves.  And  he 
was  the  man  who,  years  before,  had  closed  our  splendid 
school  at  Benito,  because,  forsooth,  the  missionaries  were 
not  diligent  enough  in  teaching  the  French  language.  I 
also  learned  from  Eemondo  that  at  the  close  of  his  in- 
spection of  the  school  at  Angom  he  gave  each  of  the  little 
boys  and  girls  a  present  of  some  tobacco. 

When  I  opened  the  school  at  Baraka  I  found  it  very 
difficult  to  procure  boys.  There  were  many  boys  who 
desired  to  come,  but  their  parents  would  not  consent.  At 


A  SCHOOL  309 

the  beginning  of  the  term  I  gathered  the  boys  with  the 
launch,  Dorothy.  The  red-hot  contentions  between  me 
and  the  fathers  and  mothers  made  this  work  of  opening 
the  school  the  most  exhausting  and  trying  of  the  whole 
year.  Often  I  was  constrained  to  regard  the  parental  in- 
stitution as  an  intolerable  nuisance  and  the  orphan  estate 
as  a  consummation  that  the  African  child  might  devoutly 
wish  for. 

In  one  town  a]  handsome  boy  was  determined  to  come 
with  me,  and  by  prolonged  talking  I  had  subdued  his 
father  and  was  hurrying  away  when  suddenly  the  mother 
appeared  upon  the  scene,  cursing  me,  and  threatening  to 
take  the  boy's  life.  Another  contention  followed,  which 
I  won  by  many  words  and  a  small  piece  of  laundry  soap. 
The  victory  seemed  complete  ;  the  father  and  mother 
were  sending  the  boy  away  with  their  blessing,  and 
speaking  kind  words  to  me  ;  we  were  about  to  get  into 
the  canoe  to  go  to  the  launch,  which  was  in  the  middle 
of  the  river,  when  an  old  and  very  ugly  woman,  grand- 
aunt  or  something  of  that  sort,  came  rushing  towards 
us,  shrieking  and  flinging  her  arms  about  her,  cursing 
me,  and  altogether  presenting  such  a  spectacle  as  might 
suggest  that  one  of  Macbeth' s  witches  had  escaped  from 
the  underworld.  Quickly,  and  in  great  alarm,  we  sprang 
into  the  canoe  and  pushed  off ;  for  I  would  rather  fight 
with  ten  men  than  one  woman.  But  there  were  many  of 
us,  we  were  standing  up  in  the  canoe,  and  before  we  had 
sufficient  way  on  she  had  waded  after  us  up  to  her  neck 
in  water,  and  laying  hold  of  the  canoe  with  both  hands, 
she  tried  to  capsize  it — which  would  be  easily  done.  The 
state  of  my  health  made  it  advisable  that  I  should  try  to 
avoid  being  thrown  into  the  river.  Besides,  the  whole 
town  was  now  gathered  on  the  bank,  rending  the  air  with 
laughter,  and  if  I  failed  they  would  continue  to  laugh  for 
a  year  or  two.  I  caught  her  hands  and  tried  to  wrench 


310        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

them  from  the  side  of  the  canoe  j  but  I  did  not  wish  to 
use  all  my  strength  against  an  old  woman,  and  moreover 
she  had  the  advantage  of  standing  on  the  ground,  while 
I  had  to  balance  the  canoe  j  so  I  failed  in  the  effort.  A 
second  more  and  we  would  have  been  in  the  river,  when 
I  caught  her  by  the  back  of  the  neck,  and,  ducking  her 
head  under  the  water,  I  held  her  there  as  solemnly  as  I 
could  until  she  so  far  weakened  as  to  let  go  her  hold  on 
the  canoe,  and  we  moved  on,  while  the  audience  on  the 
bank  cheered.  But  I  had  a  most  unheroic  feeling  all  the 
rest  of  that  day. 

In  another  town,  a  father  who  refused  to  let  his  boy  go, 
said  :  "  I  don't  want  my  boy  coming  back  here  knowing 
more  than  his  father,  his  skin  all  clean,  while  his  old 
father  sits  around  with  the  itch  scratching  himself.  Why, 
the  boy  would  despise  me  !  I  won't  let  him  go." 

For  more  than  a  year  I  taught  the  school  daily  without 
any  assistance  except  that  one  or  two  of  the  advanced 
boys  sometimes  taught  the  junior  classes.  Then  I  en- 
gaged, as  an  assistant,  a  Mpongwe,  named  Nduna,  a  boy 
of  seventeen  years,  whose  father,  Eekwangi,  was  quite 
civilized  and  an  old  friend  of  our  mission.  Poor  Kduna's 
life  ended  very  tragically  less  than  two  years  later.  He 
was  a  handsome  boy,  of  quiet  disposition  and  kind- 
hearted.  He  was  with  me  so  much  in  the  schoolroom 
and  was  so  faithful  in  his  work  that  I  came  to  know  him 
well  and  to  like  him.  At  the  end  of  the  year  he  told  me 
that  he  had  the  offer  of  a  better-paying  position  in  one  of 
the  bureaus  of  the  government  at  Libreville  and  I  advised 
him  to  accept  it.  I  understood  that  he  gave  good  satis- 
faction to  his  employer.  After  several  months  a  sum  of 
money  was  stolen  from  a  safe  that  had  accidentally  been 
left  open.  There  were  French  clerks  in  the  same  office, 
but  Nduna  was  the  only  native.  He  was  immediately 
arrested.  There  was  not  a  shred  of  evidence  against  him 


A  SCHOOL  311 

except  that  the  money  had  been  stolen  from  that  par- 
ticular office  and  that  he  was  the  only  native  there.  It 
was  hard  for  me  to  believe  that  he  was  guilty  even  before 
I  had  heard  the  evidence,  and  when  I  supposed  that  it 
must  be  strongly  against  him.  But  when  upon  inquiry  I 
learned  all  that  was  known,  I  concluded  with  a  great 
many  others  that  he  was  innocent.  And  the  others  did 
not  know  him  personally  as  I  did. 

A  native  may  be  capable  of  committing  a  very  clever 
theft,  but  I  never  knew  a  native  who  could  cleverly  con- 
ceal it.  A  certain  workman,  Ndinga,  stole  a  coat  from 
me,  and  a  few  days  later  walked  into  the  yard  with  it 
on.  Ndinga  was  not  intelligent  like  Nduna.  But  I 
knew  another  boy  who  about  the  same  time  stole  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  cash  from  a  white  man.  He  was  a 
very  clever  rascal,  and  proved  himself  so  in  the  pro- 
curing of  the  money.  Yet  he  carried  it  in  his  pocket 
as  long  as  it  lasted  (which  was  only  a  few  days)  and 
treated  all  his  friends  with  lavish  generosity.  Among 
themselves  the  detective  faculty  is  dull.  And  this  is 
probably  because  they  so  readily  resort  to  supernatural 
means  of  discovering  a  criminal,  instead  of  following 
a  natural  clue,  or  weighing  the  evidence  of  circum- 
stances against  a  suspected  person.  While  the  white 
man  racks  his  brains  with  mere  probabilities,  the 
native  goes  to  the  witch-doctor,  who  promises  him  cer- 
tainty. The  witch-doctor  names  several  persons,  often 
personal  enemies  to  himself,  and  they  are  forced  to 
undergo  some  ordeal,  such  as  dipping  their  hands  in 
boiling  oil,  which  will  burn  only  the  guilty.  It  is  an 
easy  and  expeditious  method,  and  especially  remunerative 
for  the  witch-doctor.  But  it  involves  none  of  those  men- 
tal operations  whereby  facts  are  weighed,  comparisons 
made  and  conclusions  reached.  The  judgmatical  faculty 
lies  dormant.  It  would  not  therefore  be  expected  that  the 


312        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

thief  would  be  as  careful  of  his  tracks  as  if  he  lived  in 
the  land  of  Sherlock  Holmes.  + 

In  the  case  of  Nduna  no  money  was  found  either  with 
him  or  his  relations.  Neither  had  he  spent  an  extra  cen- 
time. The  natives  themselves  never  believed  Nduna 
guilty,  and  there  were  others  also  who  thought  him  a 
victim  of  foul  play.  The  natives  of  Libreville  and  the 
immediate  vicinity  are  treated  with  humanity  and  justice, 
as  a  rule ;  but  there  have  been  exceptions  to  the  rule. 
Nduna  was  tried  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment.  I  have 
forgotten  the  term  of  his  sentence.  He  was  not  strong  ; 
his  lungs  were  weak,  and  after  several  months  in  the  noi- 
some prison  he  developed  tuberculosis.  He  failed 
rapidly,  and  when  several  more  months  had  passed  it  was 
very  plain  that  he  had  not  long  to  live.  His  father, 
Eekwangi,  and  his  mother,  Aruwi,  pleaded  piteously  for 
his  release,  but  the  request  was  sternly  refused.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  grief  of  those  unhappy  parents, — grief 
mingled  inevitably  with  bitterness  against  the  white  man  ; 
for  they  had  no  doubt  that  their  boy  was  innocent.  The 
weeks  passed  and  still  the  same  message  came  :  "A  lit- 
tle worse  to-day." 

At  length  one  night  some  one  brought  word  to  Eek- 
wangi that  Nduna  was  dying.  The  father  hurried  to  the 
prison,  two  miles  away.  But  the  guard  told  him  that  the 
white  man  would  not  admit  him.  If  I  had  only  known 
it  in  time  I  could  probably  have  procured  his  admission. 
Or  if  not,  I  at  least  might  have  afforded  the  parents  some 
relief  by  going  in  myself  and  staying  with  Nduna.  For 
many  of  the  officials  who  are  bold  in  dealing  with  de- 
fenseless black  people  are  abjectly  compliant  when  they 
confront  a  white  man.  For  hours  that  night  the  father 
walked  outside  the  prison  wall  crying  aloud:  "O 
Nduna,  Nduna,  my  only  sou,  how  can  I  give  you  up  !  It 
is  not  God,  but  the  white  man  who  has  taken  you  from 


A  SCHOOL  313 

me.  Is  he  still  living  ?  Tell  him  that  his  poor  old  father 
is  close  to  him,  standing  just  outside  the  prison  wall.  O 
Nduna,  my  son,  my  son  !  " 

At  last,  towards  morning,  the  guard  cried  out :  "  Your 
son  is  dead." 

Then  the  wretched  man,  overwhelmed  with  grief  and 
frenzied  with  bitterness,  gave  way  to  doubt  of  the  Chris- 
tian's God,  and  running  to  the  house  of  a  friend  near  by 
asked  for  rum.  "  Give  me  rum,"  he  cried,  "  lest  I  kill 
myself."  The  rum  was  given  him  and  he  drank  till  he 
was  drunk. 

That  morning  Kduna's  body  was  carried  home.  All 
the  family  and  many  friends  were  gathered  together. 
They  laid  him  on  a  pile  of  mats  on  the  floor  of  the  room, 
with  his  feet  towards  the  door,  and  covered  him  com- 
pletely with  a  coloured  robe.  As  soon  as  I  heard  that  the 
body  had  come  I  went  to  the  house.  While  I  was  yet  a 
great  way  from  the  town  I  heard  the  wail  of  their  mourn- 
ing dirge ;  that  weird,  unceasing  cry  of  hopeless  grief, 
which  I  had  heard  so  often,  but  never  before  under  such 
harrowing  circumstances,  and  it  smote  upon  my  heart. 
As  many  as  could  enter  the  house  were  sitting  on  the  floor 
and  many  on  the  ground  outside.  All  the  women  who 
were  in  civilized  dress  had  turned  their  clothes  inside  out 
as  a  sign  of  grief.  Aruwi  sat  on  the  floor  at  Nduna's 
head,  piteously  sobbing.  As  I  entered  the  door  they  all 
stopped  mourning  and  there  was  a  deep  silence.  For 
once,  in  Africa,  I  felt  that  I  could  not  speak.  No  words 
could  do  justice  to  that  heartrending  scene.  I  stood  a 
long  time  before  the  covered  body,  as  silent  as  them- 
selves. At  last  I  said  :  "  Aruwi,  I  want  to  see  Nduna's 
face." 

She  turned  down  the  covering  and  when  I  had  looked 
at  him  awhile  I  said:  "It  is  a  good  face,  Aruwi, — a 
beautiful  face.  Nduna  was  a  good  boy.  You  will  not 


314         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

forget,  Aruwi,  that  there  was  one  white  man  who  knew 
him  and  who  loved  him." 

They  remained  silent  as  I  withdrew,  until  I  reached  the 
end  of  the  village  street,  and  then  again,  they  all  began 
to  chant  the  mourning  dirge. 

When  the  members  of  the  Gaboon  Church  die  they  are 
buried  in  the  mission  graveyard  on  Baraka  hill.  The 
reason  of  this  concession  on  the  part  of  the  mission  was 
probably  to  enable  them  to  control  the  burial  service  of 
Christians  that  it  might  be  a  Christian  and  not  a  heathen 
ceremony.  They  regard  it  as  a  sacred  privilege.  Nduua 
was  not  a  member  in  the  church,  and  none  but  members 
had  ever  been  buried  at  Baraka.  But  I  broke  the  rule, 
and  told  Aruwi  that,  if  she  wished,  Nduna  would  be 
buried  at  Baraka.  And  there  we  buried  him  that  even- 
ing. The  civilized  Mpongwe  have  a  funeral  custom  that 
I  like.  When  the  casket  is  lowered  and  immediately 
after  the  benediction,  coming  forward,  they  drop  a  hand- 
ful of  earth  into  the  grave.  It  is  a  simple  and  affecting 
ceremony  and  has  no  superstitious  significance.  But 
during  all  my  years  at  Gaboon  there  was  no  other  funeral 
at  which  so  many  came  forward  in  silence  and  dropped  a 
handful  of  earth  into  the  grave  as  they  seemed  to  say  : 
"  Good-bye,  Nduna;  you  suffered  greatly ;  may  you  rest 
in  peace." 

But  by  far  the  best  teacher  I  ever  had  in  the  school, 
and  without  doubt  the  best  native  teacher  in  the  entire 
mission,  was  Bojedi,  a  Kombi  of  Benito,  to  which  tribe 
Makuba  also  belonged.  Bojedi  was  twenty  years  old 
when  I  engaged  him  as  a  teacher  and  he  stayed  with  me 
two  years,  until  I  left  Africa.  He  was  so  well  qualified 
by  education  and  so  competent  in  mind  and  disposition 
that  I  gradually  put  the  whole  work  of  the  school  upon 
him,  except  the  religious  teaching,  which  left  me  more 
time  for  itinerating  and  the  oversight  and  care  of  the 


BOJEDI,  TEACHER  OF  FANG  SCHOOL. 

He  frankly  admit*  the  suiterioriti/  of  the  white  man,  but  thinks  that 
the  Mack  man  is  far  bctter-lookiiuj. 


A  SCHOOL  315 

Christians  scattered  in  many  towns.  Bojedi  had  faults 
that  I  do  not  mean  to  pass  by,  but  without  him  the  greatly 
enlarged  work  of  those  last  two  years  could  never  have 
been  done  ;  and  there  was  probably  not  in  West  Africa  a 
native  who  could  have  taken  his  place.  Of  all  the 
natives  who  taught  or  assisted  in  the  school  he  was  the 
only  one  whom  the  schoolboys  respected  and  obeyed  as 
they  would  a  white  man.  His  interest  and  his  efforts  far 
exceeded  his  prescribed  duties.  He  had  charge  of  the 
seventy -five  boys,  both  in  the  schoolroom  and  out  of  it, 
twenty-four  hours  a  day.  He  was  there  when  they  rose 
and  when  they  went  to  bed.  He  insisted  upon  cleanli- 
ness as  to  their  persons,  their  beds,  their  food  and  the 
manner  of  eating  it.  He  oversaw  their  work  in  the  yard, 
chiefly  that  of  cutting  grass,  and  would  not  allow  any  boy 
to  shirk  his  work.  Their  most  serious  disputes  he  re- 
ferred to  me,  but  most  of  them  he  settled  himself,  to  my 
immense  relief,  and  they  all  recognized  him  as  fair. 
Under  his  constant  supervision  these  boys,  fresh  from  the 
worst  heathenism,  were  compelled  to  live  a  civilized  life. 
And  this  he  accomplished  without  force.  I  never  knew 
him  to  strike  a  boy,  nor  ever  did  I  know  him  to  lose  his 
temper.  If  he  kept  a  boy  in  school  after  hours  for  not 
knowing  his  lesson  he  stayed  with  him  himself  and  helped 
him  with  his  study.  Without  my  asking  it  he  gathered 
them  into  the  school  in  the  evening  for  an  hour's  study, 
himself  helping  the  duller  boys.  He  had  faults,  as  I 
have  said,  but  there  were  none  in  his  teaching  or  his  dis- 
cipline of  the  boys. 

.  Bojedi  was  educated  in  our  mission  school  at  Benito. 
Among  the  missionaries  of  that  station  there  was  a 
French  teacher,  Mr.  Presset,  from  whom  Bojedi  received 
much  of  his  education.  Unlike  most  Africans  he  was  a 
student  by  nature,  and  afterwards  while  he  was  so  busy 
teaching  in  my  school  he  was  also  pursuing  his  studies  in 


316  .      THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

mathematics  and  astronomy.  The  most  that  he  got  from 
me  was  music,  which  was  always  his  pastime.  He  had 
received  some  instruction  in  music  from  Mr.  Presset,  who 
gave  him  access  to  his  organ.  When  he  came  to  Gaboon 
I  placed  in  his  house  a  baby-organ  of  my  own,  and  find- 
ing that  he  had  unusual  musical  talent  I  began  to  give 
him  occasional  lessons.  He  made  much  progress  and 
played  so  well  that  when  I  was  leaving  Africa  I  left  the 
organ  and  most  of  my  organ  music  with  him.  He  played 
for  the  singing  in  school  and  also  in  the  Mpongwe  Sunday- 
school. 

While  Bojedi  was  still  in  the  school  at  Benito  he  was 
brought  into  undue  prominence  with  the  French  govern- 
ment in  a  way  that  reflected  credit  upon  his  scholarship 
and  incidentally  landed  him  in  jail  with  hard  labour. 
France,  it  is  said,  rules  for  revenue,  and  this  would  seem 
to  be  her  policy  in  the  Congo  Francais.  A  heavy  duty 
is  levied  on  imports  and  exports  for  the  purpose  of 
revenue,  resulting  soon  in  commercial  stagnation — and 
no  revenue.  The  Congo  Franyais  is  a  large  and  increas- 
ing expense  to  France.  The  natives  pay  taxes  upon  their 
houses  according  to  the  size  and  improvements.  Each 
door  and  each  window  is  taxed.  A  certain  native  of 
Gaboon,  an  enterprising  young  man,  who  wished  to  live 
in  civilized  fashion,  put  a  floor  in  his  house.  But  he  was 
taxed  so  much  for  it  that  he  took  it  out  and  went  back  to 
the  earth  floor. 

The  taxes  at  Benito  were  heavy  enough,  but  the  local 
chef  de  paste  had  been  collecting  far  more  than  was  re- 
quired. The  man  was  probably  full  of  malaria  and  had 
become  very  irritable ;  like  many  of  the  government 
officials  he  was  in  need  of  a  long  furlough  home.  Burn- 
ing native  towns  was  a  favourite  pastime.  If  the  people 
did  not  pay  their  taxes  promptly  he  burned  their  towns, 
leaving  men,  women  and  children  without  shelter.  If 


A  SCHOOL  31T 

they  paid  promptly  he  required  more  and  when  it  was 
not  immediately  forthcoming  lie  burned  their  towns.  If 
he  called  them  to  him.  and  they  were  afraid  to  come,  he 
burned  their  towns.  If  for  any  reason,  or  no  reason,  he 
doubted  that  they  loved  him  dearly,  he  burned  their 
towns.  The  illumination  was  a  superb  entertainment  for 
his  friends.  He  burned  towns  not  in  the  execution  of 
law,  but  of  his  own  degenerate  will,  governed  only  by  a 
malarious  temper. 

At  last  a  number  of  local  chiefs  addressed  a  complaint 
to  the  administrator  at  Bata,  who  was  superior  to  the 
chef  de  poste.  Bojedi,  at  the  request  of  the  chiefs,  com- 
posed and  wrote  the  letter,  which  I  believe  they  signed. 
The  administrator  sent  the  letter  to  the  chef  de  poste  who 
upon  reading  it  did  not  think  for  a  moment  that  any 
native  could  have  written  it.  There  was  only  one  white 
man  in  the  region  of  Benito  to  whom  it  could  possibly  be 
attributed  ;  and  that  was  Mr.  Presset  of  our  mission  at 
Benito.  To  make  sure  of  the  matter  he  compared  the 
writing  with  that  of  Mr.  Presset,  from  whom  he  had  re- 
ceived letters,  and  found  that  it  was  the  same.  The 
result  was  that  our  mission  at  Benito  suffered  consider- 
able ill-treatment  at  his  hands.  At  length,  one  day,  he 
referred  to  the  letter  in  speaking  to  Mr.  Presset,  and  was 
surprised  and  almost  affronted  when  the  latter  denied  all 
knowledge  of  it.  Mr.  Presset  asked  to  see  it,  and  upon 
looking  at  it  immediately  recognized  Bojedi's  writing. 
Bojedi  was  arrested  and  sent  to  jail,  although  he  was  only 
a  boy  who  had  done  what  the  chiefs  had  required  of  him  ; 
the  letter  was  theirs,  not  his.  For  months  (or  perhaps 
only  one — I  have  forgotten  the  length  of  time)  he  re- 
mained in  jail  and  worked  at  hard  labour  carrying  stone. 
When  at  last  one  morning  he  was  released  he  had  scarcely 
a  stitch  of  clothing  on  him  and  he  hid  in  a  bush  all  day, 
and  walked  home  to  Benito,  twenty  miles,  during  the  night. 


318        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

This  latter  story  also  has  a  sequel.  While  Bojedi  was 
teaching  school  in  Gaboon,  this  same  chef  de  poste  who 
had  put  him  in  jail,  was  there  in  Gaboon  a  few  days 
before  sailing  for  France.  Bojedi  went  to  see  him,  and 
did  him  several  kindly  services.  The  day  he  sailed  (it 
happened  to  be  Saturday)  ;  Bojedi  took  charge  of  all  his 
baggage  and  saw  it  safely  placed  on  the  steamer,  which 
took  the  whole  afternoon.  Thus  easily  does  the  native 
forgive  and  forget. 

Bojedi  was  very  simple  in  manners  and  direct  in 
speech.  It  never  occurred  to  him  that  the  purpose  of 
language  was  "to  conceal  thought/7  One  day  shortly 
before  I  left  Gaboon  he  remarked  that  the  schoolboys 
would  miss  me  greatly.  I  expressed  a  doubt  on  that  sub- 
ject. "O  yes,  Mr.  Milligan,"  said  he,  "they  will  feel 
badly ;  for  I  remember  that  when  I  was  a  schoolboy  and 
Mr.  X.  left  us,  we  all  felt  sorry  and  some  of  us  cried, 
although  we  had  called  him  a  beast  every  day." 

I  have  said  that  to  commiserate  the  African  for  his 
colour  is  a  waste  of  sympathy.  One  day  when  I  was  talk- 
ing to  Bojedi  something  in  the  course  of  the  conversation 
prompted  me  to  ask  him  whether  he  would  like  to  be  a 
white  man.  He  replied  respectfully  but  emphatically  in 
the  negative.  I  wished  to  know  his  reason ;  for  he 
acknowledged  and  fully  appreciated  the  white  man's 
superiority.  He  hesitated  to  tell  me ;  but  I  was  insistent, 
and  at  length  he  replied  :  "Well,  we  think  that  we  are 
better-looking." 

I  gasped  when  I  thought  of  some  of  the  vastly  ill-look- 
ing faces  I  had  seen  in  the  jungles,  and  in  apology  for 
myself  (and  for  my  race,  by  implication)  I  said:  "But 
you  have  not  seen  us  in  our  own  country,  where 
there  is  no  malaria,  and  where  we  are  not  yellow  and 
green." 

He  quietly  asked  what  colour  we  were  in  our  own 


A  SCHOOL  319 

country;  to  which  I  promptly  replied:  "Pink  and 
white." 

Looking  at  me  steadily  for  a  moment  he  remarked  : 
"  Mr.  Milligan,  if  I  should  see  you  in  your  own  country  I 
am  doubtful  whether  I  should  know  you." 

The  moral  weaknesses  of  the  black  race  are  salient  and 
uniform  and  Bojedi  was  far  from  being  an  exception  to 
the  rule.  An  imperious  sexual  impulse  is  the  racial 
characteristic  ;  and  their  surroundings  are  such  that  they 
cannot  escape  the  temptation.  One  might  think  that 
African  society,  with  all  its  tyranny  of  social  law  and 
custom,  were  contrived  with  the  sole  purpose  of  immoral 
indulgence.  Many  wives  is  much  wealth.  Courage, 
which  is  held  in  highest  esteem,  is  displayed  chiefly  in 
stealing  other  men's  wives.  And  under  certain  circum- 
stances this  immorality  is  even  a  part  of  hospitality. 
The  women  are  more  licentious  than  the  men.  A  woman 
boasts  of  her  elopements.  To  become  the  mistress  of  a 
white  man  is  a  matter  of  honour  and  gives  social  prestige. 
The  wife  of  an  elder  in  the  Gaboon  Church,  speaking  of 
a  certain  young  woman,  the  daughter  of  a  friend,  said  : 
"Iga  is  so  i stuck  up7  that  she  scarcely  speaks  to  me 
now  because  she  is  living  with  a  white  man."  The  more 
glory  therefore  to  missions,  that  it  is  able  to  establish 
purity  and  honour  in  all  the  social  and  domestic  relations 
of  native  converts  !  Even  in  half-Christian  communities 
these  heathen  standards  do  not  entirely  prevail. 

The  Mpongwe  women  of  Gaboon  who  have  long  been 
in  contact  with  the  French  are  without  comparison  the 
most  cultivated,  best-looking,  most  artful,  and  most  dis- 
solute women  of  the  entire  coast.  The  story  of  their 
licentiousness,  as  Tertullian  once  said  of  the  women  of  the 
ancient  stage,  had  best  remain  hid  in  its  own  darkness 
lest  it  pollute  the  day.  Most  young  men  of  other  tribes 
coming  among  them  as  Bojedi  did  are  like  country  boys 


320        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

arriving  in  the  city,  and  are  easy  quarry.  He  was  es- 
pecially an  object  of  pursuit  because,  having  a  good 
position,  he  had  money  j  and  their  need  of  money  is  equal 
to  their  love  of  it. 

It  was  during  Bojedi' s  second  year  as  teacher  that  I 
found  that  he  was  living  in  illicit  relations  with  a  certain 
woman.  It  was  a  grief  to  me.  He  was  a  lovable  boy  ; 
excepting  Ndong  Koni  and  Amvama,  none  were  nearer 
to  me  than  Bojedi.  I  had  come  to  expect  almost  as  much 
of  him  as  a  white  man.  Moreover  the  matter  was  fraught 
not  only  with  possible  ruin  to  himself  but  also  with  evil 
influence  for  the  school.  For  although  it  was  only  lately 
that  he  had  made  any  profession  of  being  a  Christian,  he 
stood  before  the  boys  as  a  Christian  in  a  marked  way  ; 
had  offered  a  prayer  each  morning  in  opening  the  school ; 
had  talked  with  them  personally  ;  and  had  exercised  an 
influence  for  good  that  was  the  more  profound  because  of 
their  love  of  him.  I  waited  until  night,  after  hearing 
this  report,  and  then  called  him  into  the  schoolhouse, 
where  we  would  not  be  disturbed,  and  there  we  talked 
for  hours. 

I  said:  " Bojedi,  is  it  true  that  you  are  living  with 
Antyandi?  " 

He  replied:  "It  is  true  that  I  am  married  to 
Antyandi." — So  he  had  tried  to  make  himself  believe. 

Antyandi  would  be  regarded  by  any  native  as  a  very 
attractive  woman.  Although  she  looked  younger  than 
Bojedi  she  was  really  several  years  older  and  was  artful 
according  to  her  years.  She  had  some  education  and 
spoke  and  wrote  French.  She  could  boast  of  having 
lived  with  several  white  men,  one  of  them  at  least  of  high 
rank  in  the  government,  and  from  these  associations  she 
had  acquired  a  manner  that  was  decidedly  smart  and 
foreign,  not  to  speak  of  trunks  filled  with  fine  clothes. 
She  was  girlish  in  form  and  light  in  motion  and  had  the 


A  SCHOOL  321 

reputation  of  being  a  great  dancer.  It  happened  once 
that  she  danced  before  King  Adandi  ;  not  however  for  the 
head  of  a  missionary  on  a  charger,  although  afterwards 
she  would  doubtless  have  been  glad  to  have^had  my  head 
thus  presented  to  her.  A  bottle  of  champagne  was  all  she 
asked.  Adandi  was  head  of  the  whole  Mpongwe  tribe. 
He  was  dressed  when  I  saw  him  last  in  white  shoes,  white 
flannel  trousers  and  shirt,  black  velvet  coat  with  a  heavy 
gold  chain  suspended  from  his  neck,  and  a  white  hat. 
He  had  received  part  of  his  education  in  France.  He 
claimed  the  dignified  distinction  of  martyrdom,  hav- 
ing been  twice  imprisoned  by  the  French  and  once 
exiled.  He  was  a  convert  of  the  Jesuits  and  was  pro- 
foundly religious — barring  such  discrepancies  as  drunk- 
enness, gambling  and  adultery.  King  Adandi  saw  Ant- 
yandi  dance  and  he  declared  that  he  would  die  if  he 
could  not  add  her  to  the  number  of  his  wives.  She  re- 
fused him  however  on  the  ground  that  Adandi  being  a 
king  the  relation  would  involve  a  degree  of  constancy  on 
her  part  to  which  she  was  not  accustomed.  Then  he 
organized  a  baud  of  young  men  to  seize  the  lady  and 
carry  her  off,  as  they  do  in  books.  This  had  a  fine 
flavour  of  romance  about  it.  But  the  chocolate  heroine 
had  two  invisible  leopards,  according  to  her  claim,  which 
attended  her  day  and  night,  and  with  these  she  dispersed 
the  brigands. 

But  Bojedi  is  still  in  the  schoolhouse  making  a  passion- 
ate but  sorry  defense.  He  really  loved  the  woman  with 
a  fatuous  regard,  and  I  believe  she  was  in  love  with  him. 
He  had  first  asked  her  uncle  if  he  could  marry  her,  and 
the  uncle,  the  head  of  her  family,  although  he  was  sup- 
posed to  have  absolute  authority  over  her,  replied  that 
he  had  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter,  for  Antyandi  would 
do  as  she  pleased  anyway.  Others  of  her  relations  had 
said  that  no  Mpougwe  woman  would  ever  be  allowed  to 


322        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

marry  a  Kombi  (to  which  tribe  Bojedi  belonged)  and  that 
the  whole  Mpougwe  tribe  would  rise  to  prevent  it.  An 
open  marriage  was  therefore  impossible.  And,  on  the 
other  hand,  mere  publicity  is  the  only  marriage  ceremony 
there  is  among  Christians  of  Gaboon,  and  to  forego  pub- 
licity was  to  dispense  with  all  ceremony.  But  how  could 
a  public  announcement  be  called  a  ceremony  ?  And  how 
could  mere  publicity  constitute  a  marriage  bond? 

This  latter  is  in  need  of  some  explanation.  Everybody 
knows  that  in  France  only  those  marriages  are  legal 
which  are  made  by  the  state.  The  Eoman  Catholic 
Church  insists  upon  a  church  marriage  also,  but  it  must 
follow  that  of  the  state,  and  cannot  precede  it,  the  one  be- 
ing a  legal  and  the  other  a  religious  ceremony.  In  the 
colonies  this  same  law  is  enforced,  and  the  church  is  not 
allowed  to  perform  a  marriage  ceremony  until  after  the 
legal  ceremony  of  the  state.  It  happens  also  that  there 
are  serious  impediments  to  the  legal  ceremony  and  some- 
times deplorable  consequences.  The  contracting  parties 
must  know  their  ages — which  the  African  never  knows  j 
must  know  where  they  were  born — which  they  have 
never  thought  of  asking  and  everybody  has  forgotten ; 
must  know  their  parents,  both  father  and  mother.  The 
African  knows  his  mother  but  as  for  his  father,  he  may 
never  have  asked  his  mother  that  personal  question. 
They  could  easily  have  recourse  to  lies  and  invent  a 
father,  but  unfortunately  they  are  required  to  produce  the 
parents  that  their  verbal  consent  to  the  marriage  may  be 
obtained.  If  the  parents  are  not  in  the  country  a  written 
consent  is  required  ;  and  if  they  are  dead  the  proofs  of 
their  death  must  be  produced  in  the  form  of  a  burial  cer- 
tificate. 

These  and  other  requirements  may  be  good  for  France, 
but  in  Africa  they  are  puerile  nonsense.  Moreover,  these 
legal  bonds  are  very  hard  to  break  j  and  that  were  well 


A  SCHOOL  323 

enough  if  only  the  moral  bonds  were  strengthened 
thereby,  but  they  are  not,  and  in  the  case  of  marital  in- 
fidelity the  law  binds  only  the  innocent.  For  instance 
two  of  the  very  best  women  in  Gaboon,  or  in  West  Africa 
for  that  matter,  were  thus  bound  to  husbands  who  deserted 
them.  One  of  those  men  took  six  other  wives  in  utter 
disregard  of  the  legal  marriage,  but  that  outraged  woman 
could  not  get  a  divorce  from  him  without  a  difficult  and 
expensive  process  of  law  j  nor,  being  a  Christian,  was  she 
willing  to  marry  without  a  divorce.  We  could  not  there- 
fore advise,  still  less  insist,  that  the  Christians  be  married 
by  the  state,  though  of  course  we  did  not  advise  to  the 
contrary.  And  without  the  legal  marriage  we  were  not 
allowed  to  perform  the  religious  ceremony. 

I  performed  a  few  such  ceremonies  for  those  who  had 
already  been  married  by  the  state  official.  On  one  occa- 
sion the  young  couple  had  decided  to  be  married  with  a 
ring.  But  I  knew  nothing  of  their  intention,  and  I  was 
surprised  when  the  groom,  after  the  ceremony  was  entirely 
ended,  produced  the  ring  and  asked  me  what  he  was  sup- 
posed to  do  with  it.  The  bride  on  that  occasion  was 
dressed  in  a  Mother  Hubbard  of  bright  blue  calico 
decorated  with  white  lobsters.  But  I  officiated  at  another 
marriage  in  which  the  bride  was  beautifully  attired,  and 
in  good  taste  that  would  have  done  credit  to  any  white 
woman. 

As  the  natives  objected  to  the  legal  form  of  marriage, 
and  we  could  not  conscientiously  urge  it  upon  them,  there 
was  no  recognized  or  satisfactory  form.  Of  course  there 
are  heathen  ceremonies,  but  some  of  them  are  drunken 
orgies  which  the  Christian  conscience  cannot  allow  ;  and 
others  are  so  silly  that  the  civilized  natives  would  regard 
with  abhorrence  any  suggestion  of  their  observance.  It 
is  said  that  in  some  of  the  tribes  far  east  of  us  the  bride 
and  groom  are  required  to  climb  two  young  saplings, 


324        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

which  are  then  swayed  back  and  forth  until  their  heads 
knock  together,  whereby  the  marriage  is  constituted. 
One  wonders  what  the  form  for  divorce  would  be  like  ! 

The  want  of  a  fixed  form  is  very  unfortunate.  For  it 
is  only  in  such  a  chaotic  period  of  social  transition  that 
we  learn  the  moral  value  of  the  so  much  derided  forms 
and  ceremonies,  and  that  without  them  the  marriage  tie 
becomes  so  loose  that  it  is  practically  abandoned  by  many. 
Gradually  it  came  to  be  recognized  that  the  payment  of 
the  dowry  constituted  the  marriage.  For  there  must  be 
something  to  differentiate  marriage  from  unlawful  rela- 
tions. This  served,  though  poorly,  until  the  enlightened 
Christian  conscience  pronounced  against  the  dowry,  and 
the  best  people  voluntarily  refused  to  accept  it  and 
abandoned  the  custom.  Since  that  time  there  is  no  dis- 
tinct ceremony  among  the  Christian  natives  at  Gaboon, 
which  is  deplorable. 

In  lieu  of  a  ceremony  a  useful  custom  has  been  intro- 
duced into  the  church,  namely,  that  shortly  after  mar- 
riage the  man  and  woman  shall  rise  in  their  places  in  the 
weekly  prayer-meeting,  voluntarily,  and  without  the 
minister  saying  a  word  shall  announce  their  marriage,  the 
man  saying  that  he  has  taken  this  woman  to  be  his  wife 
and  promising  to  be  faithful  to  her  ;  likewise  the  woman. 
Well  do  I  remember  one  night  in  the  Mpougwe  Church 
when  Barro  and  Anuroguli  came  to  the  prayer-meeting 
which  I  was  conducting,  expecting  to  announce  their  re- 
cent marriage.  Barro  rose  at  the  end  of  the  service  and 
without  the  least  embarrassment  announced  his  marriage 
and  made  his  vows  in  most  appropriate  words.  But 
Auuroguli,  sitting  on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  was 
seized  with  panic  and  sat  motionless  with  her  finger  in 
her  mouth.  Barro  stood  waiting  for  her  response  while 
the  women  near  her  motioned  to  her,  pulled  her  dress, 
punched  her  in  the  ribs,  until  gradually  the  whole  con- 


A  SCHOOL  325 

gregation  was  remonstrating  in  loud  whispers,  which  only 
increased  the  poor  little  woman's  embarrassment,  until, 
seeing  that  it  would  be  a  physical  impossibility  for  her  to 
make  her  announcement,  I  took  the  risk  of  the  law,  and 
rose  and  said  :  '^Anuroguli  wishes  to  announce,"  etc.  ; 
and  having  made  her  announcement  for  her,  I  closed  the 
meeting.  But,  while  all  recognize  the  propriety  of  this 
custom,  it  does  not  constitute  the  marriage ;  for  it  takes 
place  after  marriage,  sometimes  long  afterwards,  and  it  is 
not  possible  unless  both  parties  are  Christians. 

Bojedi's  argument  therefore  was  not  without  plausibil- 
ity, and  all  these  facts  that  I  have  related  he  marshalled 
to  his  defense  very  ably  and  with  intense  feeling,  as  we 
sat  there  in  the  dark  schoolhouse.  It  was  plain  that  he 
had  thought  of  all  this  before,  and  that  before  entering  on 
this  relationship  he  had  argued  long  with  his  conscience 
as  he  now  argued  with  me.  But  it  was  also  plain  that  he 
argued  in  his  defense  and  not  his  justification,  and  that 
he  had  allowed  his  reason  to  coerce  his  conscience.  I 
replied  that  where  there  was  nothing  outward  except  a 
public  announcement  to  distinguish  marriage  from  an 
illicit  relation,  then  the  announcement  became  a  duty 
binding  on  the  conscience  quite  as  much  as  a  ceremony  ; 
and  that  if  marriage  be  not  so  distinguished  we  have  a 
society  of  "free  love."  And  again,  as  to  the  inward- 
ness of  the  marriage  relation,  upon  which  he  dwelt,  that 
it  implied  always,  whether  with  or  without  a  ceremony, 
a  sincere  intention  of  permanency.  I  added:  "  From 
the  regard  that  you  have  expressed  for  Antyandi  you 
would  probably  desire  that  your  present  relation  be  per- 
manent. But  desire  is  not  sufficient  without  expectation 
also  ;  and  you  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  when  you  leave 
Gaboon  to  return  to  your  own  people  Antyandi  will 
never  go  with  you,  and  even  if  she  should  remain  here 
she  would  not  be  true  to  you.  You  have  therefore,  with 


326        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

full  knowledge,  entered  into  a  temporary  relationship  ; 
which  is  no  marriage  in  any  sense  that  a  Christian  can 
admit. " 

As  repentance  is  the  chief  act  of  man,  so  it  is  also  the 
hardest.  To  make  the  admission  of  wrong  to  me  was  not 
so  hard  as  to  admit  it  to  himself,  with  all  its  consequences. 
But  at  last  the  admission  came  :  a  moment  later  he  was 
on  his  knees,  in  tears  and  sobs.  He  said  :  "  It  is  not 
that  I  cannot  give  up  Antyandi ;  it  will  be  hard  enough, 
but  I7 11  do  it.  But  it  is  the  wrong  I  have  already  done 
and  the  loss  to  myself  that  I  feel.  These  two  years  while 
I  have  been  teaching  your  school  I  have  lived  differently 
from  all  the  other  years  of  my  life.  Many  things  that  I 
used  to  do  I  had  stopped  doing.  I  was  happy  because 
my  heart  was  clean,  and  because  the  schoolboys  all  loved 
me  and  believed  in  me.  And  now  all  that  I  have  built 
up  in  these  two  years  is  pulled  down.  And  what  will 
the  boys  think  of  me  f  " 

It  would  be  cruel  to  repeat  all  that  was  said  in  that 
conversation.  He  wept  until  I  felt  that  tears  could  do  no 
more,  and  then  I  tried  to  quiet  and  comfort  him.  It  was 
midnight  when  I  left  him. 

Next  day  he  sent  a  brief  letter  to  Antyandi  telling  her 
that  he  had  done  wrong,  that  he  was  very  much  ashamed, 
and  that  she  must  not  expect  him  ever  to  enter  her  house 
again.  He  fully  realized  that  there  was  a  hard  fight 
ahead  of  him  and  he  thought  best  not  to  see  her  at  all. 
She  made  many  attempts  and  plied  her  arts  to  get  him 
again  in  her  power.  She  wrote  him  letters  in  which  she 
professed  to  be  dying  for  love  of  him.  I  went  to  her  and 
ordered  her  not  to  set  her  foot  on  the  mission  premises.  She 
regarded  the  order  by  day,  but  she  came  at  night.  She 
came  to  his  window  waking  him  suddenly  out  of  his  sleep. 
She  tried  his  door.  She  came  at  all  hours  of  the  night. 
One  night  he  found  that  he  could  not  lock  his  door.  She 


A  SCHOOL  327 

had  probably  tampered  with  it ;  but  he  did  not  think  of 
that,  for  she  had  not  been  there  for  several  nights.  That 
night  at  midnight  she  came.  He  broke  loose  from  her 
and  ran  straight  for  my  room,  where  I  was  in  bed  asleep. 
He  knocked  and  entered ;  then  told  me  what  had  hap- 
pened and  begged  me  to  protect  him.  I  told  him  he  must 
stay  in  my  room  the  rest  of  that  night ;  which  he  did,  and 
slept  on  the  floor.  I  kept  him  there  every  night  for  a 
week  ;  for  more  than  once  he  had  wavered  though  he  had 
not  fallen.  Thus  she  continued  to  do  for  two  months ; 
but  the  subject  is  not  a  pleasant  one,  and  we  need  not 
follow  the  course  of  events  during  that  period. 

After  two  months  we  heard  that  she  was  in  Libreville, 
the  mistress  of  a  dignitary  of  the  government,  and  Bojedi 
supposed  that  that  would  be  the  last  of  her  j  but  it  was 
not.  A  month  later  the  white  man  suddenly  left  Libre- 
ville or  died — I  have  forgotten  which — and  Antyandi  re- 
turned home.  A  few  days  afterwards,  returning  from  the 
beach  one  morning,  I  observed  that  in  my  absence  some 
one  had  closed  the  door  of  my  study  which  I  had  left 
open  ;  the  windows  also  were  closed  and  the  blinds  down. 
I  hurried  in  with  a  vague  apprehension  of  something 
wrong.  There  sat  Bojedi  in  the  darkened  room,  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands  and  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  would 
break.  I  knew  instantly  what  had  happened. 

"  How  can  I  tell  you  !" 

11  There  is  no  need  to  tell  me,"  I  replied  ;  "  go  to  your 
own  house,  Bojedi,  and  I  shall  follow  you  in  a  little 
while." 

I  went  to  his  house  and  he  told  me  the  whole  story  of 
his  temptation  and  fall,  a  story  that  I  cannot  repeat  here. 
He  told  it  with  a  broken  voice  and  crying  all  the  time. 
The  school  had  been  closed  two  weeks  before,  the  boys 
were  all  gone  and  nobody  around.  Bojedi  was  waiting 
for  the  English  steamer,  on  which  he  was  going  home. 


328        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

This  complete  idleness  after  his  responsible  and  constant 
work  was  perhaps  the  devil's  opportunity.  Still  crying 
he  rose  at  length  and  opening  a  box  took  out  all  sorts  of 
native  riches,  presents  from  Antyandi,  native  robes  which 
must  have  been  paid  for  by  white  men,  a  fancy  bed  quilt 
and  embroidered  pillow-covers.  Without  saying  a  word, 
but  still  sobbing,  he  made  a  pile  of  these  things  just  out- 
side his  door,  while  I  looked  on  not  knowing  what  he 
was  going  to  do,  until  he  struck  a  match  and  set  fire  to 
them.  Then  he  remarked:  "I  should  have  done  that 
long  ago ; "  which  I  fully  admitted ;  or  else  he  should 
have  returned  them,  which  would  have  been  better.  The 
next  day  he  left  for  home. 

I  felt  that  this  moral  fall  was  peculiarly  serious, 
much  more  so  than  some  sin  of  sudden  impulse.  It  was 
no  doubt  the  very  crisis  of  his  life,  a  long  deliberate 
battle  in  which  all  his  moral  resources  were  called  out 
and  all  his  moral  energy  engaged.  Victory  in  such  a 
fight  transforms  temptation  into  a  purifying  alembic  ; 
but  to  fall  in  such  a  fight  means  usually  to  be  maimed 
for  life. 

Very  soon  after  this  I  left  Africa.  Bojedi  remained  at 
home  the  following  year.  He  was  married  during  the 
year.  The  last  letter  that  I  received  from  him  was  dated 
at  Brazzaville,  in  the  very  heart  of  Africa,  on  the  Upper 
Congo,  where  he  had  a  good  position  with  the  Commissaire 
General.  He  says:  "Your  letter  dated  at  Lebanon, 
Indiana,  August  21,  1906,  was  received  March  20,  1907," 
after  which  he  tells  me  that  just  before  he  left  his  home 
in  Benito  a  son  was  born  to  him,  whom  he  has  named 
Eobert  Milligan  !  May  his  tribe  increase! 


XV 

A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR 


r  |    AHE  following  letter,  with  some  slight  omissions 
and  alterations,  was  written  on  board  the  Eng- 
1         lish  steamer  Volta  to  a  little  circle  of  friends  in 
America : 

S.8.  "Volta,"  Aug.  7,  1900. 

It  is  three  months  since  I  left  Gaboon  for  a  health- 
change  on  the  sea,  and  I  am  just  now  returning.  I  had 
supposed  that  I  would  be  away  only  a  few  weeks  ;  but  the 
time  was  prolonged  by  the  sickness  and  death  of  an  Afri- 
can boy  whom  I  called  my  little  scholar,  of  whom  it  is 
the  purpose  of  this  letter  to  give  you  some  account. 

Since  the  regretted  resignation  of  Mr.  Boppell  on  ac- 
count of  ill-health,  I  have  had  charge  of  the  Gaboon 
Church  at  Baraka,  with  the  work  among  the  Mpongwe, 
besides  my  work  among  the  Fang.  You  will  remember 
that  the  Mpongwe  is  a  coast  tribe,  among  whom  our 
church  has  had  a  mission- work  for  many  years,  while  the 
Fang  is  the  interior  tribe  (now,  however,  extending  to 
the  coast),  among  whom  the  work  is  quite  new.  The 
strain  of  so  much  additional  work  in  such  a  climate  greatly 
overtaxed  me,  and  after  four  months  it  became  necessary 
either  to  take  a  furlough  home,  or  a  health-change  on  the 
sea.  The  furlough  was  out  of  the  question,  for  there  was 
no  one  to  take  my  place.  Accordingly  on  the  16th  of 
May  I  left  Gaboon  on  this  steamer  expecting  to  go  north 
as  far  as  Fernando  Po  and  return  on  the  next  south- 
bound steamer,  which  would  give  me  a  vacation  of  a 
month. 

329 


330        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Being  in  miserable  health,  I  took  along  with  me  one 
of  my  Fang  schoolboys,  Ndong  Mba,  the  smallest  and 
brightest  of  his  class.  I  thought  I  needed  him  to  wait  on 
me.  And  besides  I  intended  to  improve  the  idle  hours 
in  talking  Fang  with  him.  But  a  week  after  we  had  left 
Gaboon  Ndong  Mba  was  the  patient  and  I  was  the  nurse. 
The  weeks  and  months  that  have  intervened,  instead  of 
being  a  period  of  rest  and  pleasure,  have  been  the  most 
trying  in  all  my  African  experience. 

Ndong  Mba  was  born  in  a  town  not  far  from  Angom. 
While  he  was  yet  a  mere  baby  his  father  and  mother  died 
leaving  him  to  the  care  of  their  relations.  However  will- 
ing such  relations  may  be  to  assume  parental  authority 
over  a  child,  they  are  not  so  willing  to  assume  responsi- 
bility for  his  care,  for  the  parental  love  is  absent.  More- 
over, Ndong  was  very  frail ;  and  such  a  child  is  not  at- 
tractive to  the  African  woman,  except  his  own  mother. 
He  was  therefore  heartlessly  neglected,  until  my  prede- 
cessor, Eev.  Arthur  W  .Marling,  finding  him  hungry  and 
crying,  and  knowing  his  miserable  plight,  took  pity  on 
him  and  carried  him  in  his  arms  to  the  mission.  Ndong 
often  told  me  about  the  kindness  of  the  missionaries. 
But  there  was  a  long  interval  when  Mr.  Marling  was  away 
on  furlough  ;  and  then  he  was  dependent  upon  distant  re- 
lations who  made  him  thoroughly  acquainted  with  hunger 
and  hard  work.  He  continued  frail  and  was  very  small, 
appearing,  when  I  afterwards  knew  him,  several  years 
younger  than  he  was  really  was. 

He  attended  the  school  at  Angom  which  was  well  kept 
and  well  taught  under  Mr.  Marling' s  administration  ;  and 
at  an  age  when  most  children  do  not  know  their  letters 
he  could  read.  I,  who  did  not  know  him  until  the  be- 
ginning of  this  present  year,  have  regarded  him  as  an  in- 
tellectual prodigy.  His  knowledge  of  the  Scripture  and 
his  understanding  of  it  was  astonishing  in  one  so  young. 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAE  331 

The  whole  Gospel  of  Matthew,  the  only  one  which  has 
been  translated  into  the  Fang,  he  knew  almost  by  heart, 
besides  a  considerable  acquaintance  with  the  other  Scrip- 
tures through  the  Mpongwe  translations ;  for  he  knew 
Mpongwe  almost  as  well  as  Fang.  He  was  baptized  and 
received  into  the  church  at  a  younger  age  perhaps  than 
any  other  child  has  ever  been  received  in  our  mission  ; 
and  through  the  years  that  have  since  passed,  amidst  de- 
grading surroundings  of  which  you  in  the  homeland  can 
scarcely  conceive,  this  little  boy  kept  the  faith  which  he 
then  professed,  and  grew  up  pure,  truthful,  unselfish  and 
affectionate. 

Mr.  Marling  died  in  the  fall  of  1896,  Ndoiig  Mba  being 
then,  probably,  seven  or  eight  years  old.  Long  before 
this,  however,  the  people  of  his  town  had  moved  far 
away,  leaving  him  behind,  and  were  quite  lost  sight  of. 
He  was  now  without  friends,  white  or  black,  at  the  age  of 
eight.  In  a  distant  bush-town  there  was  a  woman  who 
had  formerly  lived  in  Ndong's  town  :  he  made  his  way  to 
her  and  begged  her  to  take  him  in.  There,  in  a  town 
remote  from  missionary  influence,  in  which  there  was  not 
one  person  related  to  him,  the  poor  little  stranger  lived 
for  three  years,  during  which  no  missionary  either  saw 
him  or  heard  of  him.  His  position  in  the  town  was  not 
much  better  than  that  of  everybody's  slave.  His  frailty, 
instead  of  insuring  greater  kindness,  only  made  him  con- 
temptible. Whenever  he  spoke  of  those  three  years  it 
was  always  of  his  sufferings  there,  and  his  back  was  in- 
jured by  the  heavy  loads  that  had  been  put  upon  him. 
He  was  the  only  Christian  in  the  town  ;  but  there  is  no 
doubt  that  through  those  hard  and  lonely  years  the  little 
Christian  was  constant  and  faithful  in  profession  and 
practice  ; — as  strange,  upon  its  human  side,  as  that  a 
lighted  candle  should  withstand  a  winter's  storm. 

At  the  end  of  this  time  a  long-wished-for  opportunity 


332        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

came ;  he  joined  a  company  of  travellers  and  again 
reached  Angom,  hoping  to  find  a  missionary  there. 
There  was  no  missionary  there  at  the  time  and  he  found 
the  station  closed  ;  bat,  in  a  town  close  by,  a  woman  was 
visiting  who  years  before  had  lived  in  Ndong's  town 
She  was  probably  a  Christian  woman,  for  she  was  com- 
passionate. Her  heart  was  touched  and  she  took  him 
with  her  to  her  home  near  the  coast.  It  was  only  a  few 
weeks  after  this  that  I  met  him,  at  the  beginning  of  this 
year. 

I  was  gathering  a  class  of  Fang  boys  who  had  already 
received  a  primary  education  in  the  school  at  Angom, 
hoping  that  with  time  and  training  they  might  become 
teachers,  and  later  on,  in  the  providence  of  God,  perhaps 
preachers.  I  heard  of  this  boy,  and  immediately  I  visited 
the  town  where  he  was  staying.  The  name  of  the  town 
was  typical,  Ebol  Nzok  :  Rotten  Elephant.  It  seems  that 
when  the  people  of  this  town  still  lived  in  the  interior 
bush  they  sent  a  delegation  down  the  river  to  choose  a 
site  for  a  new  town  near  the  coast.  The  delegation  se- 
lected a  beautiful  site,  where  the  river  broadens  out  into 
the  great  estuary.  .They  returned  and  reported  their  suc- 
cess, and  the  whole  large  town  at  once  prepared  to  move. 
As  they  approached  the  chosen  site,  and  while  they  were 
still  at  a  distance,  they  found  the  atmosphere  of  the  new 
country  pervaded  with  a  most  disagreeable  smell  which 
grew  worse  and  worse, — a  horrible  stench  which  made 
them  hold  their  noses,  a  breath  from  Gehenna,  almost 
palpable.  They  forced  a  passage  through  it  and  went  on 
until  they  reached  the  middle  of  the  chosen  site,  where 
they  found  the  huge  carcass  of  an  elephant  in  an  acute 
stage  of  decomposition.  They  thought  it  proper  to  com- 
memorate this  historical  incident  in  the  name  of  their 
town,  which  they  called  Rotten  Elephant :  Ebol  NzoJc. 

When  I  visited  Ebol  Nzok  and  asked  for  Ndong  Mba 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  333 

they  told  me  he  was  away  in  the  distant  gardens  at  work  ; 
so  I  left  word  that  I  would  like  to  see  him  at  Baraka  as 
soon  as  he  could  come.  One  morning,  not  long  after,  a 
tiny  little  boy  came  into  my  study  and  stood  before  me, 
his  body  thin  and  frail,  but  unusually  clean,  and  with 
extraordinary  eyes,  dark  and  sparkling  beneath  long 
black  lashes.  Looking  up  eagerly  into  my  face  and  very 
much  excited,  he  said  :  "I'm  Ndong  Mba  ;  I've  come  ; 
and  I'm  so  glad  you  sent  for  me.  I  have  not  seen  a  mis- 
sionary since  Mr.  Marling  died  ;  and  I've  not  been  to 
church,  and  I've  not  been  to  school,  and  I  thought  the 
missionaries  had  thrown  me  away.  And  there  were  no 
Christians  where  I  live.  I  was  alone  ;  and  I  prayed  and 
prayed  all  the  time  to  come  back  to  the  mission  ;  and  now 
I'm  here  ;  and  I'm  so  glad  ;  and  I  will  do  anything  you 
ask  if  you  let  me  stay  here  ;  for  I  can  work,  and  you 
won't  be  sorry  if  you  let  me  be  your  boy."  Thus  he 
went  on  with  his  pathetic  appeal.  And  this  was  really 
Ndong  Mba,  of  whom  I  had  so  often  heard  ! 

The  unusual  intelligence  of  the  eyes  that  looked  into 
mine,  eyes  in  which  the  tears  were  now  quivering,  the 
faded  rag — but  very  clean — which  was  the  sum  of  his 
clothing,  and  other  marks  of  neglect  and  suffering,  moved 
me  deeply.  Drawing  the  poor  little  waif  close  to  me  I 
said  :  "I am  glad  to  see  you,  Ndong  Mba, ' '  which  he  ac- 
cepted as  a  sufficient  answer. 

I  took  him  into  my  class  and  also  assigned  him  certain 
work  for  which  I  said  I  would  pay  him,  so  that  he  could 
buy  the  little  clothing  and  other  things  that  he  needed. 
He  replied  :  "  Little  boys  don't  need  money  ;  I  only  want 
a  father  to  take  care  of  me,  and  I'll  work  for  him  all  the 
time."  I  thought  best,  however,  to  insist  upon  paying 
him,  but  at  the  same  time  I  told  him  that  I  would  take 
care  of  him  as  long  as  we  were  together.  All  that  day, 
throughout  its  duties  and  its  noise,  those  wonderful  ap- 


334:        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

pealing  eyes  seemed  still  to  be  looking  up  into  mine.  I 
felt  that  God  had  given  into  my  charge  one  of  His  little 
ones,  that  I  might  help  to  fit  him  for  a  great  service  to  his 
people  in  years  to  come.  Through  all  the  weeks  and 
months  that  followed,  during  which  he  was  continually 
with  me,  he  fully  justified  my  first  impression  of  him. 

This  is  the  little  boy  that  I  took  with  me  from  Gaboon 
in  May.  The  second  day  he  had  what  seemed  to  be  a 
light  attack  of  malarial  fever.  The  ship's  doctor  said 
that  he  had  only  caught  cold,  and  assured  me  that  he 
would  be  better  next  day.  But  the  next  day  he  was 
worse,  and  the  next  still  worse.  One  of  our  missionary 
physicians  came  on  board  at  Batanga,  going  home  on  fur- 
lough. He  found  Ndong  Mba  very  sick  indeed.  He  had 
pneumonia — a  very  severe  attack — and  pleurisy  with  it, 
causing  him  great  pain  j  this,  together  with  a  hard  fever. 
The  situation  was  distressing.  I  was  sick  myself  and 
scarcely  able  to  be  out  of  bed,  and  had  brought  Ndong 
along  to  wait  on  me.  But  now  he  was  worse  than  myself 
and  I  was  waiting  on  him. 

When  we  reached  Fernando  Po,  where  I  had  expected 
to  land  and  to  wait  for  the  south-bound  steamer,  there  was 
scarcely  a  hope  that  he  would  live ;  and  whatever  small 
hope  there  was  would  have  been  cut  off  by  moving  him 
and  taking  him  away  from  the  doctor' s  care.  I  had  there- 
fore no  choice  but  to  remain  on  board ;  and  I  went  on  to 
Teneriffe,  where  I  waited  three  weeks,  until  the  return 
of  this  same  steamer  from  England.  Indeed,  on  my  own 
account  it  would  not  have  been  advisible  to  land  at  Fer- 
nando Po.  For  I  had  been  attending  Ndong  almost  day 
and  night,  and  my  health-change  had  thus  far  been  only 
a  change  for  the  worse.  Others  on  board,  fellow  mission- 
aries, had  been  kind  in  trying  to  relieve  me ;  but  as 
Ndong  suffered  more,  and  the  fever  raged,  they  could  not 
control  him;  and  after  a  few  minutes  they  would  be 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  335 

obliged  to  call  me.  But  they  remarked  that  when  I  came 
I  had  only  to  speak  his  name,  and  he  was  quiet ;  and  the 
brave  little  man  even  tried  not  to  let  me  see  how  sick  he 
was. 

I  greatly  regretted  the  necessity  of  going  on  to  Tene- 
riffe  ;  for  I  had  expected  to  be  away  from  my  work  only 
one  month  and  had  arranged  it  accordingly,  and  this  ex- 
tension of  my  trip  would  keep  me  away  three  months  and 
the  consequences  to  the  work  distressed  me.  I  no  more 
enjoyed  the  trip  than  if  I  had  been  a  prisoner  in  irons. 
Besides,  there  was  difficulty  in  regard  to  my  accommoda- 
tions on  board,  a  difficulty  that  was  increasing  at  each 
port  as  we  took  on  more  passengers.  I  had  engaged  only 
a  deck-passage  for  Ndong ;  but  Captain  Button  whose 
kindness  I  can  never  forget,  had  told  me  to  take  him  into 
my  cabin.  Thus  far  I  had  occupied  the  cabin  alone,  but 
I  could  not  expect  that  favour  to  continue  longer,  as 
other  passengers  were  coming  on  board,  and  already  there 
were  two  persons  in  each  of  the  other  cabins.  The  full 
price  of  the  cabin  for  myself  and  Ndong  to  Teneriffe  and 
return  would  have  been  about  five  hundred  dollars.  It 
was  therefore  a  considerable  favour  that  I  was  accepting 
from  the  captaiii,  and  it  was  now  at  the  cost  of  possible 
discomfort  to  others.  But  this  difficulty,  I  thought, 
would  not  last  long,  for  it  did  not  seem  that  Ndong 
would  live  more  than  a  few  days.  The  captain  told  me 
not  to  think  of  the  matter  of  accommodations  at  all ;  that 
he  would  leave  me  that  cabin  as  long  as  he  possibly  could, 
and  if  it  should  become  impossible,  he  actually  said  that 
I  should  bring  Ndong  up  to  his  own  cabin  and  occupy  it. 
One  would  need  to  have  been  on  the  coast  to  have  any 
just  appreciation  of  such  extraordinary  kindness  towards 
a  little  black  boy.  Moreover,  almost  every  morning  the 
captain  came  to  my  cabin  door  and  asked  for  the  boy. 

Again  the  unexpected  happened.     Ndong,  one  might 


336        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

almost  say,  neither  died  nor  lived.  He  simply  lingered, 
and  lingered  on,  through  weary  weeks.  After  a  while 
the  worst  of  his  suffering  was  past,  bat  in  his  extreme 
weakness  he  required  almost  as  much  attention  as  ever. 
He  was  quite  unable  to  walk  and  could  only  leave  his  bed 
as  some  one  carried  him,  but  it  was  no  difficult  matter  to 
carry  him  for  he  had  rapidly  wasted  away  until  he  was 
no  heavier  than  a  baby.  I  need  not  relate  the  history  of 
those  weeks  j  there  were  few  incidents  to  recount ;  but  I 
wish  that  you  might  have  witnessed  the  patience  of  the 
poor  little  sufferer. 

He  had  his  moments  of  doubt  too.  One  day  when  he 
was  talking  to  me,  as  I  lay  in  the  adjoining  berth,  I  told 
him  that  we  must  try  to  sleep  because  that  we  both  were 
sick.  * i  You  sick  1 "  he  asked.  l  i  You  sick,  too  ?  " 

He  partly  rose  in  his  bed,  and  leaning  his  head  on  his 
hand,  looked  long  and  wistfully  at  me.  After  a  while  I 
asked  him  what  he  was  thinking  of. 

"I  am  wondering,"  he  replied  slowly,  "  why  we  two 
should  be  sick.  We  are  both  Christians  and  you  are  a 
minister,  and  there  are  so  many  on  board  who  do  not  try 
to  do  right.  I  hear  them  cursing  God  all  the  time  as  they 
pass  up  and  down  the  gangway.  And  they  are  all  well. 
I  have  often  thought  of  it ;  but  I  do  not  understand." — 
A  little  boy  from  the  depths  of  the  African  jungle  strug- 
gles with  the  same  question  which  sorely  tried  an  ancient 
sufferer,  and  to  which  his  friends  gave  but  vain  answers. 

There  was  among  the  deck-passengers  a  woman  whose 
language  Ndong  knew,  although  it  was  not  his  own.  Be- 
fore his  sickness  reached  the  worst  I  sometimes  asked  this 
woman  to  sit  with  him  while  I  sat  on  deck.  One  day  he 
said  to  me  :  "  Mr.  Milligan,  we  must  pray  for  that  woman. 
She  is  in  great  darkness.  She  talked  about  things  she 
ought  not  to  mention  ;  and  I  told  her  about  Jesus." 

We  called  at  many  ports  along  the  way  j  but  I  did  not 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  337 

leave  the  ship.  On  the  fourth  Sunday  we  reached  Sierre 
Leone,  usually  the  last  African  port  for  these  ships  of  the 
southwest  coast.  In  this  splendid  and  beautiful  harbour 
with  its  amphitheatre  of  hills,  there  were  more  vessels  to- 
gether than  I  had  seen  in  years.  But  the  most  interest- 
ing of  all  was  a  British  man-of-war.  I  heard  the  singing 
at  the  u divine  service'7  which  is  held  every  Sunday 
morning  on  all  British  war-ships.  All  the  passengers 
excepting  myself  had  gone  ashore,  and  I  was  alone  on  the 
deck,  and  not  only  alone,  but  lonely  and  tired.  Nclong 
was  sleeping  in  a  chair  beside  me.  It  was  then  that  the 
first  hymn  from  the  war-ship  rang  clear  across  the  still 
water,  sung  in  perfect  time  by  that  large  chorus  of  strong 
men's  voices,  the  harbour  forming  a  perfect  acoustic 
chamber.  The  tune  was  the  old  classic,  "St.  Anne." 
The  words  were  those  usually  sung  to  this  tune  in  our 
own  churches,  "Our  God,  our  help  in  the  ages  past !" 
I  have  never  heard  anything  more  beautiful  and  impress- 
ive ;  and  after  my  long  exile  in  the  jungle  my  mind  was 
susceptive  to  the  influence  of  its  power  and  beauty.  The 
hymn,  both  words  and  music,  had  always  been  a  favourite, 
answering,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  to  something  fundamental 
in  our  nature  ;  but  from  this  time  it  became  the  favourite. 
And  since  that  time,  whenever  I  ask  choirs  and  congre- 
gations to  sing  it  I  am  always  hearing  within  and  beyond 
their  voices,  the  music  of  that  chorus  of  men  in  the  far 
off  African  harbour.  I  cannot  forbear  to  quote  the 
words. 

"  Our  God,  our  help  in  ages  past, 
Our  hope  for  years  to  come  ; 
Our  shelter  from  the  stormy  blast, 
And  our  eternal  home  ! 

"  Under  the  shadow  of  Thy  throne, 
Thy  saints  have  dwelt  secure  ; 
Sufficient  is  Thine  arm  alone, 
And  our  defense  is  sure. 


338         THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

"  Before  the  hills  in  order  stood, 
Or  earth  received  her  frame, 
From  everlasting  Thou  art  God, 
To  endless  years  the  same. 

1 '  Time,  like  an  ever-rolling  stream, 
Bears  all  its  sons  away  ; 
They  fly,  forgotten,  as  a  dream 
Dies  at  the  opening  day. 

"  Our  God,  our  help  in  ages  past, 
Our  hope  for  years  to  come, 
Be  Thou  our  Guard  while  troubles  last, 
And  our  eternal  home." 

At  the  end  of  five  weeks  we  reached  Teneriffe  Island, 
where  I  waited  three  weeks  for  the  return  of  the  Volta 
from  Liverpool.  As  we  approached  the  harbour  of  Santa 
Cruz  the  captain  called  me  to  the  bridge  to  see  an  Ameri- 
can flag  which  waved  from  a  mast  among  the  flags  of  all 
nations.  "Come,"  said  he,  "and  feast  your  eyes  on 
your  American  gridiron. " 

It  did  not  take  me  long  to  get  to  the  bridge.  "Don't 
point  it  out,"  said  I,  "  let  me  find  it  myself." 

Those  who  have  wandered  much  in  foreign  lands  are 
more  deeply  imbued  with  the  sentiment  of  the  flag.  But 
to  feel  it  to  the  full  one  must  have  lived  for  years  in  an 
uncivilized  land,  where  liberty  is  not  yet  born.  The  sight 
of  the  flag  to  me  that  day  was  like  hearing  Madam  Patti 
sing  Home  Sweet  Home. 

I  landed  at  Santa  Cruz  and  remained  there  four  days — 
days  of  unpleasant  recollection.  It  was  thought  best  to 
keep  Ndong  as  much  as  possible  in  the  open  air.  Though 
very  weak  he  could  walk,  and  I  led  him  by  the  hand. 
One  would  think  that  these  Spaniards  of  Santa  Cruz  had 
never  seen  a  black  skin  before  ;  the  poor  emaciated  form 
added  greatly  to  their  curiosity ;  and  above  all,  the 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  339 

novelty  of  a  white  man  caring  for  one  who  to  them  was 
only  a  i '  little  black  nigger. '  >  I  no  sooner  appeared  with 
the  child  than  a  crowd  gathered  around  me,  and  I  found 
myself  the  centre  of  a  dirty  procession  of  all  ages  and 
genders,  that  followed  me  round  and  round  the  block  in 
increasing  numbers  j  large  girls  walking  backwards  in 
front  of  me  j  women  with  baskets  of  clothes  on  their  heads 
going  out  of  their  way  to  walk  by  my  side  and  staring 
with  open  mouth, — all  of  them  staring.  The  slightest 
betrayal  of  irritation  on  my  part  would  have  served  only 
to  increase  the  crowd,  and  I  tried  to  look  perfectly  com- 
posed and  good-natured.  But  now  and  then  there  was  an 
inward  rise  of  unsaintly  feeling  that  resembled  that  of 
the  two  she-bears  of  Holy  Scripture  that  rudely  scattered 
a  crowd  of  young  Spaniards  following  hard  upon  the 
heels  of  an  ancient  prophet. 

Ndong  was  at  first  exasperated  by  this  unwelcome 
publicity  ;  but  later  his  feelings  were  relieved  by  an  in- 
advertent remark.  Before  reaching  Teneriffe,  two  mis- 
sionary ladies,  to  whom  I  am  grateful  for  many  kind- 
nesses, had  made  a  little  suit  for  him  out  of  some  of  their 
own  clothes.  This  suit  was  far  beyond  anything  he  had 
ever  hoped  to  possess.  And  in  addition  to  this  I  bought 
him  a  pair  of  shoes  at  Santa  Cruz — little  canvas  shoes 
with  hemp  soles,  for  which  I  paid  a  peseta.  When  he 
protested  against  the  rude  staring  of  the  Spaniards, 
and  was  about  to  cry,  I  remarked  that  perhaps  these  poor 
Spanish  children  were  only  admiring  his  fine  clothes. 
He  took  me  more  literally  than  I  had  expected,  and  from 
that  time  made  no  more  complaint. 

After  four  days  I  left  Santa  Cruz  by  a  stage-coach, 
travelling  directly  across  the  middle  of  the  island  to 
Orotava,  a  small  port  on  the  other  side.  Orotava  is 
situated  at  the  base  of  the  great  Teneriffe  Peak,  one  of 
the  greatest  in  the  world,  which  rises  to  a  height  of 


340        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

12,500  feet  above  the  sea  and  is  supposed  to  be  the  Mt. 
Atlas  of  ancient  fable.  Above  the  town  the  broad  land- 
scape, on  which  the  quaint  hut  of  the  toiling  peasant  con- 
trasts with  stately  English  homes,  rises  at  first  slowly  and 
then  more  rapidly,  until  at  last  it  sweeps  upward  far 
above  the  clouds.  On  a  hill  three  miles  from  the  town 
towards  the  Peak  stands  the  magnificent  English  hotel, 
where  I  stayed,  surrounded  with  many  acres  of  the 
loveliest  flowers  in  terraced  gardens.  It  is  a  perfect 
fairy-land.  The  hotel  is  immense  in  size,  and  in  winter 
it  is  filled  with  English  guests  ;  but  I  was  there  in  sum- 
mer and  I  was  the  only  guest. 

The  hotel  commands  the  finest  view  of  the  Peak.  It  is 
usually  hidden  behind  the  clouds  by  day,  and  is  visible 
in  the  evening.  As  one  sees  it  first,  in  the  late  afternoon, 
a  white  cloud  is  stretched  across  its  middle  height,  con- 
cealing the  mountain  all  but  the  very  summit  which  ap- 
pears like  a  celestial  island  floating  upon  radiant  clouds 
in  the  high  heavens.  It  is  fifteen  miles  to  the  summit. 
There  is  a  good  road  and  one  can  make  the  ascent  on  a 
donkey,  all  but  the  last  three  miles,  which  most  people 
prefer  to  walk.  Near  the  summit  the  ground  is  hot  a  few 
inches  below  the  surface,  which  is  usually  the  only  evi- 
dence that  it  is  still  an  active  volcano.  But  two  years 
ago  there  issued  from  the  crater  for  several  months  a  vol- 
ume of  smoke  which  at  the  distance  of  the  hotel,  fifteen 
miles,  appeared  as  large  as  the  funnel  of  an  ocean 
steamer. 

The  distance  from  Santa  Cruz  to  Orotava  is  twenty-six 
miles ;  and  the  road  of  course  passes  up  and  down  the 
mountain  grades,  in  some  places  very  steep.  We  were 
nine  hours  on  the  way.  The  old  coach,  a  relic  of  bygone 
ages,  was  so  "  romantic  "  that  I  doubted  whether  it  would 
ever  reach  its  destination.  It  was  drawn  by  three  scraggy 
horses,  a  little  older  than  the  coach,  at  whom  the  driver 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  341 

never  ceased  shouting,  as  he  cracked  his  long-lashed 
whip  about  their  heads.  The  harness  was  of  sundry 
materials,  leather  straps,  ropes  and  chains,  tied  and 
knotted  any  place  and  everywhere.  And  they  were  con- 
tinually parting,  especially  in  critical  ascents  of  the  road, 
at  which  the  driver  would  spring  from  his  seat  in  a  panic, 
as  if  such  a  casuality  had  never  happened  before,  not- 
withstanding the  evidence  of  many  previous  knots.  Then 
seeing  the  excitement  of  the  passengers,  who  were  trying 
to  scramble  out,  but  in  such  disorder  that  they  jammed 
together  and  each  one  prevented  the  others,  he  would 
block  the  coach  and  proceed  to  repair  the  harness,  in 
which  art  he  ought  to  have  been  an  expert,  if  practice 
makes  perfect.  No  sooner  did  we  reach  the  next  ascent, 
however,  than  as  if  by  the  spell  of  some  malignant  sprite 
all  the  knots  untied  at  the  same  moment,  and  again  the 
passengers  were  thrown  into  a  state  of  panic. — But  one 
gets  used  to  being  killed.  We  had  two  relays  of  horses 
on  the  way. 

The  coach  was  apparently  intended  for  four  persons, 
but  for  a  considerable  part  of  the  distance  was  occupied 
by  seven,  four  of  whom  smoked  cheap  cigars,  although 
the  windows  were  closed  much  of  the  time.  For  we 
ascended  the  mountain  to  a  great  height,  and  night  com- 
ing on  at  the  same  time,  it  was  very  cold,  much  more  so 
than  I  had  prepared  for,  and  being  fresh  from  the  equator, 
I  suffered  as  if  I  had  been  thrust  into  the  Arctic  zone. 
Ndong  had  a  high  fever,  and  I  had  to  wrap  my  travelling- 
rug  around  him.  The  result  was  that  for  the  next  ten 
days  I  had  one  of  the  severest  colds  I  have  ever  had  in 
my  life.  The  coach  was  so  crowded  that  I  could  only 
save  Ndong  from  being  crushed  or  sat  upon  by  holding 
him  on  my  knee,  but  he  was  very  much  exhausted  by  the 
journey. 

Before  reaching  Orotava  I  left  the  coach  which  did  not 


342        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

pass  the  Grand  Hotel,  to  which  I  was  bound.  I  took  a 
carriage,  which  carried  some  of  the  mails  from  that  point, 
and  which  passed  the  hotel.  The  driver  was  bold  to 
leave  me  at  the  hotel.  But  he  forgot  and  took  me 
on  down  the  steep  grade,  a  mile  further  towards  the  town. 
Then,  recalling  the  order  he  had  received  he  suddenly 
stopped,  and  pointing  to  the  lights  of  the  hotel  up  the 
steep  height  behind  us  invited  me  to  get  out.  I  kept  my 
seat  and  requested  him  to  drive  me  back  to  the  hotel.  A 
" palaver7'  ensued  in  which  neither  of  us  understood  in 
particular  what  the  other  was  saying.  For  he  spoke 
only  Spanish,  of  which  I  did  not  know  a  sentence.  I  had 
no  money  accessible  before  reaching  the  hotel.  I  tried  to 
tell  him  that  I  would  pay  him  ;  but  he  probably  did  not 
understand.  Then  I  thought  that  the  matter  might  as 
well  be  cut  short  j  so  pointing  to  the  hotel  I  gave  him  a 
peremptory  order  in  the  English  language,  but  the  accent 
was  universal.  In  reply  he  whipped  his  horses  and  drove 
straight  on  to  the  town.  Reaching  his  destination,  on 
the  main  street,  he  jumped  down  and  with  violent  gestic- 
ulation proceeded  to  throw  all  my  baggage  into  the  street, 
which  was  a  sufficient  inducement  for  me  to  follow  ;  and 
I  found  myself,  at  eleven  o'clock  at  night,  miserably  cold, 
with  a  sick  child  in  my  arms,  and  with  all  my  baggage, 
in  the  street  of  a  foreign  town  where  there  was  no  person 
with  whom  I  could  speak  a  word. 

Several  loafers  who  were  still  abroad  gathered  around, 
and  recalling  by  mere  chance  the  name  of  a  Spanish 
hotel  in  the  town,  I  directed  them  to  carry  my  baggage 
and  the  child,  and  show  me  the  way  to  it.  Fortunately 
it  was  quite  near.  I  remained  there  that  night,  and  next 
day  went  to  the  Grand. 

In  the  community  there  was  a  physician,  whose  serv- 
ices I  requested,  Dr.  Ingram,  a  Scotchman,  who  was  re- 
siding there  for  his  health.  He  found  that  one  of 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  343 

Ndong's  lungs  was  completely  congested,  and  he  advised 
that  I  should  send  him.  to  a  hospital  three  miles  further 
up  the  mountainside  and  close  to  his  home.  Accordingly  I 
took  Ndong  to  the  hospital  where  he  remained  for  a  week. 

I  went  every  day  to  see  him,  riding  the  six  miles,  to 
the  hospital  and  back,  on  a  donkey,  which  added  another 
chapter  of  novel  experience.  The  Canary  Island  donkey 
is  a  very  diminutive  quadruped,  the  colour  of  a  mouse 
and  as  innocent  looking  as  a  lamb.  Its  ears  are  about  as 
long  as  its  legs.  The  price  of  the  donkey's  hire  includes 
the  owner,  who  runs  behind  and  shouts,  and  prods  him 
with  a  stick.  After  two  days7  experience  I  concluded 
that  shouting  and  prodding  were  of  no  use  whatever,  and 
realizing  that  the  moral  man  in  me  was  rapidly  degenerat- 
ing, I  decided  on  the  third  day  to  leave  the  driver  at 
home  and  even  pay  a  higher  price  if  necessary  for  the 
donkey  without  a  driver,  intending  myself  to  assume  the 
management  of  this  soft-eyed  creature,  who  perhaps  only 
needed  a  little  petting,  for  those  eyes  bespoke  a  peaceful 
temper.  The  owner  readily  assented  to  the  proposition 
and  very  wisely  requested  me  to  pay  in  advance. 

In  a  few  minutes  I  had  experienced  to  the  full  the  pain 
of  misplaced  confidence.  My  donkey  was  a  facsimile  of 
the  immortal  Modestine.  Having  patted  the  donkey 
kindly  and  exchanged  with  her  a  long  look  of  mutual  re- 
gard, I  mounted.  She  started  off  on  an  easy  trot  until  the 
owner  was  out  of  sight.  Then  she  stopped  and  stood  still 
and  declined  to  go  on  in  spite  of  coaxing,  kicking  and 
whipping,  until  I  seriously  thought  of  building  a  fire 
under  her  to  get  her  to  move.  While  I  was  reflecting 
upon  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  and  for  the  time 
had  ceased  from  all  measures  of  coercion,  she  started  as 
suddenly  as  she  had  stopped  and  with  as  little  reason. 
She  seemed  to  be  clear  outside  the  principle  of  causality 
that  inheres  in  the  universe.  And  having  started,  she 


344        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ran  anywhere  and  in  every  direction,  evincing  neither 
purpose  nor  method  in  her  going  except  a  marked  pre- 
dilection for  hedges  and  brambles. 

In  less  than  two  minutes,  however,  she  reverted  to  her 
natural  gait,  which,  like  that  of  Modest ine,  was  something 
as  much  slower  than  a  walk  as  a  walk  is  slower  than  a 
run.  Under  cruel  and  continuous  beating  I  forced  her  to 
^maintain  a  gait  that  I  hoped  would  carry  me  to  the  hos- 
pital and  back  before  night,  six  miles  in  an  entire  after- 
noon. Occasionally  my  spirit  revolted  from  the  ignoble 
occupation  of  so  maltreating  a  poor  dumb  animal.  But 
the  moment  I  relaxed  she  turned  aside  from  the  road  and 
began  to  browse.  Each  peasant  that  passed  me  threw 
back  his  head  and  laughed.  An  inward  consciousness 
that  I  would  have  laughed  myself  if  I  had  been  in  their 
place  only  added  to  my  misery.  "But  O,  what  a  cruel 
thing  is  a  farce  to  those  engaged  in  it !  "  Under  the  in- 
fluence of  their  laughter  and  the  perversity  of  Modestine 
humanity  died  in  my  heart  and  I  belaboured  her  with  all 
the  strength  and  vivacity  that  my  health  would  allow, 
stopping  only  to  get  my  breath  and  to  mop  the  perspira- 
tion from  my  superheated  brow.  Of  course,  I  might  bet- 
ter have  walked  the  rocky  ascent ;  but  in  one  thing  I  was 
as  obstinate  as  the  donkey — I  would  not  give  up  my  un- 
dertaking to  ride  her  to  the  hospital  and  back.  Besides, 
I  kept  hoping  that,  as  she  could  not  do  worse,  she  might 
possibly  do  better  ;  otherwise  my  arm  should  have  failed 
me  for  despair.  And  to  think  that  I  was  paying  for  all 
this  disservice  !  By  some  strange  fortuity  of  circum- 
stances we  actually  reached  the  hospital,  and  afterwards 
the  hotel,  where  I  took  final  leave  of  her,  a  weary  but  a 
wiser  man.  At  parting  she  again  turned  to  me  with  an 
affectionate  look  of  lamb-like  innocence  ;  but  a  deep  sense 
of  injury  together  with  aching  limbs  rendered  me  insen- 
sible to  her  magnanimity. 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAE  345 

The  people  of  Tenerifle  are  so  far  behind  modern  times 
that  the  barbers  are  still  the  surgeons.  Dr.  Ingram  blis- 
tered Ndong's  congested  lung  and  the  barber  was  after- 
wards called  in  daily  to  dress  the  wound.  After  six  days 
I  took  Ndong  back  to  the  hotel.  He  seemed  on  the  way 
to  recovery,  and  was  much  stronger  on  his  feet. 

Under  Mr.  Marling' s  teaching  he  had  acquired  a  habit 
of  prayer  morning  and  evening  to  which  he  had  ever  been 
faithful.  Nothing  could  surpass  the  pathos  of  the  prayers 
that  he  offered  thanking  God  for  every  kindness  that  he 
had  received  from  anybody  and  pleading  for  his  complete 
recovery.  He  knew  that  he  was  a  great  care  to  me  and 
it  troubled  him.  On  one  occasion  he  entreated  :  "  O 
Father  in  heaven,  please  make  me  well ;  for  I've  been 
sick  so  long  ;  and  I'm  so  little  j  and  I  have  no  father  nor 
mother." 

The  day  after  he  returned  from  the  hospital  I  observed 
that  he  was  inclined  to  be  impatient ;  the  next  day  he 
was  more  impatient,  and  was  positively  disobedient.  I 
was  surprised  and  pained  ;  and  I  wondered  whether  it 
could  be  possible  that  my  constant  care  had  in  any  way 
spoiled  a  disposition  which  years  of  neglect  and  adversity 
had  only  sweetened.  But  it  was  soon  explained.  That 
evening  while  he  was  eating  his  dinner,  in  a  little  room 
next  the  dining-room  where  I  was  eating  mine,  I  heard 
him  talking  excitedly  to  the  waiter.  I  immediately  went 
to  him  and  carried  him  to  my  room.  He  sat  down  and 
covering  his  face  with  both  his  hands  held  them  there 
without  moving.  I  spoke  to  him  but  he  did  not  answer. 
Then  removing  his  hands  from  his  face,  I  called  him  by 
name.  He  turned  his  eyes  towards  mine  in  an  agony  of 
fear :  it  was  his  last  sane  moment.  He  uttered  a  loud 
shriek,  and  another,  and  another.  I  caught  him  in  my 
arms  as  he  went  into  a  convulsion  and  laid  him  on  my 
bed.  But  I  knew  that  upon  this  poor  little  boy,  from  his 


346        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

birth  marked  out  for  misfortune,  and  who  had  now  suf- 
fered so  long,  had  at  last  fallen  the  most  terrible  of  human 
calamities — insanity  ;  and  that,  too,  just  when  his  re- 
covery seemed  hopeful. 

All  night  he  continued  talking  wildly,  and  shrieking 
at  intervals.  In  the  morning  he  was  more  quiet,  though 
not  more  sane.  Nor  was  there  any  marked  change  dur- 
ing the  ten  long  weary  days  that  we  still  remained  in  the 
hotel.  He  gradually  became  weaker  and  more  insane. 
I  did  not  let  him  out  of  my  sight  except  when  I  went  to 
my  meals,  and  then  I  locked  him  in  my  room. 

Once  when  I  returned  from  dinner  I  found  him  dressed 
in  a  suit  of  white  pajamas  of  mine.  He  said  to  me  : 
"  That  woman  who  comes  in  to  attend  to  the  room  while 
you  are  at  dinner  is  a  very  foolish  person.  She  came  in 
this  evening  and  looked  at  me  and  laughed,  and  laughed. 
But  all  Spaniards  seem  to  be  foolish." 

On  the  10th  of  July  I  returned  to  Santa  Cruz.  The 
next  day  the  Volta  arrived  and  I  immediately  went  on 
board.  I  looked  forward  with  dread  to  the  long  journey 
on  the  steamer  with  an  insane  child.  I  engaged  a  second- 
class  cabin  (although  I  was  a  first-class  passenger)  that  I 
might  be  removed  from  the  white  passengers  j  for  on 
these  steamers  there  are  seldom  any  white  men  travelling 
second-class.  Again,  by  the  kindness  of  the  captain, 
Ndong  occupied  the  cabin  with  me.  He  was  determined 
to  go  all  over  the  ship,  but  it  was  more  than  ever  neces- 
sary that  I  should  restrain  him.  He  became  impatient 
of  the  restraint,  and  regarded  me  as  his  prison-keeper. 
It  made  a  great  difference  when  this  child,  who  had  loved 
me  with  the  utmost  devotion,  now  turned  against  me. 
But  his  own  suffering  was  increased  by  this  feeling  ;  nor 
was  there  anything  I  could  do  to  relieve  it.  I  simply 
waited  for  the  end  and  prayed  to  Him  who  tempers  the 
wind  to  the  shorn  lamb. 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAE  347 

There  were  on  board  sixteen  officers  of  the  English  army 
who  were  expecting  to  debark  at  Cape  Coast  Castle  and 
were  bound  for  the  Ashantee  territory  of  the  interior, 
which,  as  you  probably  know,  has  been  for  several 
months  the  scene  of  another  great  uprising  of  the  natives 
almost  as  formidable  as  that  of  thirty  years  ago.  When 
we  reached  Sierra  Leone,  we  also  took  on  board  more 
than  two  hundred  native  soldiers,  as  deck-passengers.  I 
am  glad  to  testify  that  among  these  sixteen  officers  there 
were  several  real  gentlemen,  in  the  American  sense  j 
others  were  tolerable ;  and  there  were  still  others.  They 
were  not  pleasant  fellow  passengers.  We  were  looking 
forward  with  some  dread  to  their  last  night  on  board ; 
and  they  also  were  looking  forward  to  it,  but  with  feel- 
ings entirely  different  from  ours.  We  were  expecting  to 
reach  Cape  Coast  Castle  on  Thursday.  But  for  the  last 
sixty  hours  the  captain,  without  telling  anybody,  used 
the  reserve  power  of  two  knots  an  hour,  increasing  our 
full  speed  from  ten  to  twelve  knots.  Accordingly,  it  was 
with  astonishment  and  unmixed  joy  that  on  Wednesday 
morning,  coming  on  deck,  we  read  on  the  bulletin : 
"Cape  Coast  Castle  this  morning  at  eight  o'clock!" 
They  had  not  time  to  get  drunk. 

But,  in  any  case,  the  heartrending  scene  which  we  wit- 
nessed soon  after  we  had  anchored  would  probably  have 
sobered  them.  Five  missionaries  of  the  Swiss  Basle  Mis- 
sion were  brought  on  board  in  a  most  pitiful  and  awful 
condition.  Among  them  was  that  great  and  widely- 
known  veteran,  Mr.  Eamseyer,  whom  I  had  long  wished 
to  meet.  Mrs.  Eamseyer  was  also  in  the  party,  besides 
two  other  younger  women  and  another  man. 

At  the  outbreak  of  the  war  these  missionaries  had  fled 
to  Kummassi,  the  seat  of  the  English  government,  and 
were  there  when  that  city  was  besieged  by  the  natives. 
The  English  governor  was  also  in  the  city.  For  several 


848        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

months  they  had  lived  on  half-rations,  until  they  were  so 
reduced  in  flesh  that  their  friends  would  not  have  recog- 
nized them.  All  this  time  they  were  waiting  and  watch- 
ing for  the  arrival  of  reinforcements  from  the  English 
army.  At  last,  having  waited  for  the  expected  relief  un- 
til their  supplies  were  nearly  exhausted,  they  broke 
through  the  lines  of  the  enemy  and  made  a  desperate 
effort  to  reach  the  coast.  The  governor  escaped  at  the 
same  time  and  with  his  retinue  started  for  the  coast  by  a 
different  road.  Along  the  main  road  the  enemy  was 
strongest  so  that  it  was  impassable  j  therefore  the  mission- 
ary party  of  six  persons,  three  men  and  their  wives,  to- 
gether with  their  fifty  carriers,  took  a  most  circuitous 
road,  and  indescribably  bad.  They  all  walked  but  Mrs. 
Eamseyer  who  was  carried  in  a  hammock.  Many  of  their 
carriers  were  shot  down  by  the  enemy  and  others  died  by 
the  way,  being  exhausted  by  famine.  I  think  it  was  only 
fifteen  carriers  that  reached  the  coast.  One  man  of  the 
missionary  party  died  when  they  had  been  a  week  on  the 
way.  They  walked  for  twenty -five  successive  days  before 
they  reached  the  coast.  One  woman,  the  wife  of  the  man 
who  died  on  the  way,  walked  all  the  last  day  without 
shoes. 

"That  day,  as  well  as  others, "  said  Mr.  Eamseyer, 
"we  waded  in  water  to  our  waists,  and  sometimes  almost 
to  the  women's  shoulders." 

The  collapse  came  when  they  reached  the  coast ;  at 
least  for  all  but  Mr.  Eamseyer,  a  man  of  iron  constitution. 
The  next  day  the  Volta  called  and  they  were  brought  on 
board  and  were  laid  upon  the  deck  like  corpses ;  all  but 
Mr.  Eamseyer. 

The  captain,  whose  humour  and  inexhaustible  anecdote 
were  usually  an  antidote  for  the  tedium  and  weariness  of 
so  long  a  journey,  was  overcome  by  the  scene  on  deck 
to  the  extent  that  I  saw  him  brush  a  tear  away.  And 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  349 

then,  finding  it  absolutely  necessary  to  do  something,  as 
a  vent  to  his  feeling  of  sympathy,  and  supposing  that  the 
very  best  thing  for  the  missionary  party  all  round  would 
be  a  strong  stimulant,  he  stepped  to  the  skylight  and 
shouted:  " Whisky!  Whisky!"  Then,  evidently  re- 
flecting that  if  a  little  whisky  were  good,  more  would  be 
better,  he  circulated  about  the  deck  shouting,  "  Whisky  ! " 
at  every  steward  who  put  his  head  out  of  a  port-hole. 

It  sounded  like  an  invocation  to  some  favourite  fetish  ; 
and  for  that  matter  whisky  is  the  fetish  of  many  white 
men  in  West  Africa.  They  invoke  its  aid  in  all  their 
troubles.  If  there  had  been  many  more  stewards  around, 
I  am  afraid  there  would  have  been  a  serious  shortage  of 
whisky  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage,  and  such  an  event 
would  have  created  greater  consternation  on  the  coast 
than  the  Ashantee  war  itself. 

u  Great  Scott ! "  exclaimed  a  man  in  the  saloon  who  had 
been  occupied  with  writing  and  did  not  know  what  was 
occurring  on  deck,  "where  is  all  that  whisky  going  at 
this  hour  of  the  morning?  What's  come  on  board?  the 
English  army?" 

"No,"  replied  the  steward,  "it's  a  party  of  mission- 
aries." The  man  went  up  the  companion  way  two  steps 
at  a  time  to  see  the  party  of  missionaries  who  could  drink 
so  much  whisky.  I  do  not  remember  whether  the  mis- 
sionaries drank  any  of  the  whisky  ;  but  it  may  be  taken 
for  granted  that  it  was  not  wasted. 

While  they  still  lay  on  the  deck,  Mr.  Eamseyer,  stand- 
ing up,  told  the  story  of  their  sufferings  to  the  shocked 
and  eager  passengers  assembled  about  him.  Until  this 
morning  the  war  had  been  a  kind  of  a  jest  to  these  officers 
of  the  army  ;  but  now  it  became  a  stern  reality,  and  the 
change  in  their  behaviour  was  noticeable.  One  of  them, 
by  the  way,  was  shot  by  a  native  and  instantly  killed  a 
few  days  after  landing. 


350        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

That  same  evening  Mr.  Eamseyer  told  me  of  the  ex- 
perience of  himself  and  Mrs.  Eamseyer  in  the  former 
Ashantee  war,  thirty  years  ago.  In  that  war  they  were 
captured  by  the  natives  and  held  for  ransom.  Five  long 
years,  from  1869  to  1874,  they  were  prisoners,  carried 
about  from  place  to  place  to  escape  the  pursuit  of  the  Eng- 
lish. They  were  told  that  they  would  be  killed  rather 
than  given  up.  During  the  first  year  their  feet  were  put 
in  stocks  at  night  to  prevent  their  escape.  But  they  made 
friends  of  their  captors,  who  finally  gave  them  up  with- 
out ransom.  They  went  to  Switzerland  for  a  long  rest, 
and  then  returned  again  to  their  work. 

Mr.  Eamseyer  closed  his  story  of  this  latest  war  by  de- 
claring triumphantly  that  the  Christian  natives  had  not 
taken  part  in  the  rebellion  j  though  their  loyalty  had  cost 
many  of  them  their  lives. 

I  have  digressed  at  length  from  my  subject  and  am  sev- 
eral days  ahead  of  my  story  ;  but  I  am  glad  to  have  this 
opportunity  of  recording  the  heroism  of  this  grand  old 
man,  great  alike  in  counsel  and  in  action  ;  whose  advice 
successive  governors  of  Ashantee  for  many  years  have 
sought ;  and  the  equal  heroism  of  his  noble  wife,  and  the 
devotion  of  the  other  missionaries  of  the  party,  who  might 
have  escaped  safely  at  the  outbreak  of  this  war,  but  that 
they  chose  rather  to  suffer  with  their  people. 

I  said  that  from  the  time  we  came  on  board  at  Santa 
Cruz  Ndong  was  disposed  to  wander  over  the  ship,  and  I 
had  to  watch  him  closely.  Several  times  he  escaped  from 
me.  On  one  occasion  I  had  been  up  with  him  until  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  was  then  asleep  and  I 
also  lay  down  and  slept  soundly  for  a  little  while.  But 
during  this  time  he  had  wakened  and  was  gone.  The 
door  was  fastened  at  the  first  hook  and  I  did  not  suppose 
that  he  could  pass  through.  He  went  on  a  tour  of  inspec- 
tion around  the  ship  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes  he  was  tired 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  351 

and  wished  to  return.  He  became  confused  and  wan- 
dered into  the  saloon,  at  the  other  end  of  the  deck,  and 
from  the  saloon  into  the  cabin  which  he  had  occupied 
with  me  when  we  went  north.  One  of  the  army  officers, 
a  captain,  an  entire  stranger  to  me  at  the  time,  occupied 
the  cabin.  Imagine  his  surprise  when  he  was  awakened 
in  the  dark  by  a  strange  hand  upon  his  face.  Supposing 
it  to  be  the  hand  of  a  robber,  he  seized  it  j  but  finding 
how  very,  very  small  it  was,  he  concluded  that  his  life 
was  not  in  immediate  danger.  He  remembered  the  little 
boy  whom  he  had  seen  with  me,  and  calling  a  steward  he 
sent  him  to  me.  I  apologized  to  the  gentleman  next 
morning  as  best  I  could.  His  generosity  relieved  my 
humiliation. 

All  the  way  to  Teneriffe  Kdong  had  been  getting 
weaker  each  day.  One  morning  I  took  him  on  deck  as 
usual,  but  in  a  little  while  he  asked  to  be  carried  back  to 
bed.  All  that  day  and  the  next  he  lay  quietly  repeating 
stories  from  the  Gospel,  one  after  another.  He  was  again 
patient  and  loving  as  before,  and  his  mind  was  clearer. 
On  Thursday  morning,  July  19th,  about  three  o'clock  he 
wakened,  and  I  rose  and  sat  beside  him.  He  was  very 
weak  and  spoke  with  effort.  But  after  a  while  he  talked 
more,  and  without  difficulty.  I  had  partly  raised  him  in 
the  bed .  and  he  lay  on  the  pillows  with  his  arm  around 
my  neck.  At  last,  with  eyes  dilated  and  aglow  with  the 
beauty  of  another  world,  he  said  :  "  I  see  Mr.  Marling  ; 
he  conies  towards  the  door ;  and  beyond  him  I  see  the 
City  of  God ;  and  Jesus  is  there.  Do  you  not  see,  Mr. 
Milligan?" 

"No,  Ndong,"  I  said. 

After  a  while  he  fell  asleep  ;  and  some  hours  later  he 
passed  into  the  deeper  sleep  in  which  there  is  "no  more 
pain  "  ;  for  he  had  gone  to  be  with  Jesus,  "  which  is  far 
better." 


352        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

That  same  day  at  noon  we  buried  him  at  sea,  two  hun- 
dred miles  west  of  Sierra  Leone.  Only  those  who  have 
witnessed  a  burial  at  sea  know  how  it  affects  the  mind 
with  a  nameless  depression  and  spreads  a  gloom  over  all 
on  board.  It  is  perhaps  the  awful  vastness  of  the  ocean 
grave  that  imparts  this  sense  of  desolation.  The  sailors 
have  many  superstitions  regarding  death  on  shipboard. 
For  instance,  they  say  that  sharks  invariably  follow  the 
ship  for  twenty-four  hours  before  a  death  takes  place. 

I  have  several  times  conducted  burial  services  at  sea ; 
— once,  on  a  French  steamer,  the  burial  of  a  deputy- 
governor  of  Senegal.  The  body  wrapped  in  canvas,  and 
with  heavy  weights  at  the  feet,  is  placed  upon  a  plank  at 
the  open  gangway,  with  the  feet  towards  the  sea,  ropes 
being  attached  to  the  inner  end  of  the  gangplank. 
After  the  service,  at  the  signal  of  the  captain,  the  engines 
are  stopped,  whose  ceaseless  beating,  night  and  day,  the 
ear  had  not  seemed  to  hear  until  it  stopped.  The  ensuing 
stillness  is  like  the  sudden  suspension  of  nature.  At  this 
moment  the  sailors  standing  by  lift  the  ropes  and  draw 
the  gangplank  over  the  ship's  side  until  it  tilts  and  the 
body  slides  into  the  sea.  A  momentary  circling  of  the 
water,  and  nothing  more  remains  to  mark  the  place. 
Another  signal,  the  engines  again  commence  the  ceaseless 
beating,  and  the  effect  is  even  more  depressing  ;  it  is  like 
the  sudden  knocking  at  the  gate  after  the  murder  in 
Macbeth.  Death  is  only  realized  in  contrast  to  the  world's 
activity.  On  these  African  steamers  which  so  often  have 
the  sick  on  board,  especially  on  the  homeward  voyage, 
deaths  are  often  kept  secret  and  the  burials  performed  at 
night,  for  the  sake  of  the  passengers  ;  and  it  is  a  kindly 
custom. 

The  bodies  of  natives  dying  on  board  are  often  flung 
overboard  without  even  being  wrapped,  and  there  is 
never  any  formal  service.  But  the  captain  of  the  Votta 


A  LITTLE  SCHOLAR  353 

to  all  the  rest  of  his  kindness  added  this  also,  that  he  gave 
little  Ndong  a  white  man's  burial.  The  boatswain 
wrapped  the  body  in  its  canvas  shroud  and  laid  it  upon 
the  gangplank  with  the  British  flag  thrown  over  it.  As 
I  took  my  place  at  the  side,  the  captain  stepped  forward 
and  stood  beside  me.  A  missionary  brother  read  some 
verses  of  Scripture  j  another  missionary,  of  Ndong'sown 
colour,  offered  a  prayer.  The  captain  gave  the  signal 
and  the  body,  wrapped  in  its  "  heavy-shotted  hammock- 
shroud,  dropped  in  its  vast  and  wandering  grave." 

I  have  said  little  of  his  passionate  love  for  me  ;  but  it 
will  ever  be  one  of  the  sweetest  memories  of  my  life  in 
Africa.  And  when  my  own  time  comes  and  I  shall  see 
with  unholden  eyes  the  land  that  is  fairer  than  day,  I  am 
thinking  that  among  those  who  first  shall  greet  me  will  be 
Kdong  Mba,  the  little  scholar. 


XVI 

A  CHURCH 

"  Ethiopia  shall  haste  to  stretch  out  her  hands  unto  God." 

— Psalm  68 :  31. 

THEEE  are  many  who  seeni  to  think  that  the 
heathen,  the  world  over,   are  reiterating  the 
ancient  cry  of  Macedonia,    ' '  Come  over  and 
help  us,"  and  that  multitudes  are  converted  to  Christian- 
ity at  the  first  hearing  of  the  Gospel ;  notwithstanding 
that  in  our  own  land  those  who  know  its  transcendent  im- 
port and  ample  evidence,  and  those  who  have  even  been 
trained  in  Christian  households,  are  not  so  easily  won. 
Degradation  and  ignorance  are  a  poor  preparation  for 
Christian  faith. 

To  the  cultured  heathen  of  old  the  Gospel  was  foolish- 
ness, and  it  is  not  less  foolish  to  the  uncultured  heathen. 
The  inspiring  vision  of  a  nation  in  a  day  is  more  poetic 
than  factual.  Neither  the  nation  nor  the  individual  is 
won  in  a  day.  Evangelism  would  be  a  simple  process  if 
it  were  only  to  say,  as  Philip  said  to  Nathanael :  "  Come 
and  see."  Nathanael,  however,  was  not  a  bloodthirsty 
savage,  but  a  pious  Jew.  It  is  certain  that  our  duty 
does  not  end  in  merely  announcing  the  Gospel  to  the 
heathen,  and  giving  them  the  opportunity  to  hear,  while 
we  pass  the  word  on  to  others  j  for  this  does  not  evangel- 
ize, nor  accomplish  anything  else  worth  while.  The 
watchword,  lifted  with  battle-cry  fervour,  that  appeals 
for  the  evangelization  of  the  world  in  this  generation, 

354 


A  CHURCH  355 

has  inspired  the  zeal  of  many  and  has  thereby  done  good 
service  ;  but  it  is  liable  to  look  for  geographical  rather 
than  moral  results,  and  the  policy  of  missions,  if  it 
respond  to  this  exigent  desire,  becomes  spectacular,  the 
aim  being  to  cover  the  utmost  territory.  New  work  is 
begun  before  the  old  is  half  done,  with  a  consequent 
waste  of  the  labour  already  expended.  New  stations  are 
opened  before  the  old  are  half  manned  for  thorough 
work  ;  and  since  only  a  thorough  work  can  ever  become 
self-sustaining  and  be  left  to  take  care  of  itself,  it  follows 
that  this  principle  of  forced  extension  defeats  every  other 
principle,  and  in  the  end  defeats  itself. 

I  know  eleven  missionary  societies  working  in  West 
Africa,  and  in  most  of  those  societies  there  is  need  of  a 
policy  based  upon  reality  versus  romance.  In  most  of 
them  the  missionaries  agree  that  the  stations  are  seriously 
undermanned.  I  know  one  mission  station  at  least  which 
has  been  opened  for  more  than  sixty-five  continuous 
years,  and  missionaries  are  still  there  without  the  least 
likelihood  of  their  moving  on  ;  for  the  simple  reason  that 
the  station  has  been  so  undermanned  in  all  these  years 
that  they  have  not  yet  trained  a  native  ministry  ;  whereas, 
if  instead  of  making  haste  to  open  new  stations  they  had 
concentrated  their  forces  there  in  sufficient  numbers  to  do 
a  thorough  work,  they  might  have  left  it  long  ago  to  the 
care  of  the  natives  themselves,  and  the  missionaries  might 
have  opened  new  fields,  with  the  likelihood  that  those 
also  would  in  a  reasonable  length  of  time  be  sufficiently 
evangelized  to  be  left  to  themselves. 

Nothing  retards  progress  like  too  much  haste.  The 
cause  of  the  undermanned  stations  and  the  resultant 
crippled  work  is  not,  as  many  will  say,  that  there  are  not 
enough  missionaries,  but  that  there  are  too  many  stations. 
The  policy  cannot  make  missionaries,  but  it  does  make 
stations,  and  a  wise  policy  will  adapt  the  number  of  sta- 


356        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

tions  to  the  number  of  missionaries,  instead  of  so  scatter- 
ing the  missionaries  that  not  one  of  them  can  do  a  work 
that  will  remain.  In  the  arithmetic  of  missions  two  men 
can  do  not  only  twice  as  much  but  ten  times  as  much  as 
one.  The  French  Protestant  Society,  whose  work  on  the 
Ogow6  Eiver  in  the  Congo  Frangais  is  without  doubt  the 
most  successful  work  in  all  West  Africa,  have  only  two 
stations,  but  have  ten  missionaries  at  each  station. 
Neither  can  it  be  said  that  the  crippled  force  at  work  in 
most  of  the  missions  is  due  to  the  hostile  climate,  inas- 
much as  every  year,  and  almost  every  month,  the  unex- 
pected happens,  and  missionaries  are  obliged  to  lay  down 
their  work  suddenly  and  go  home.  I  reply  that  elsewhere 
(as  I  have  said  before)  it  is  the  unexpected  that  happens, 
but  in  Africa  it  is  the  unexpected  that  we  expect.  We 
know  the  climate.  It  is  one  of  the  exigencies  of  the 
situation,  and  since  the  policy  cannot  change  the  climate, 
the  climate  ought  to  change  the  policy. 

A  policy  of  true  evangelism  must  aim  to  establish  a 
self-sustaining  church,  that  is,  a  church  which  is  inde- 
pendent of  foreign  money,  and  which  is  manned  with  its 
own  ministry  ;  and  this  is  a  slow  process.  It  involves  a 
threefold  work,  that  of  preaching  (not  on  Sunday  only, 
but  daily,  probably  itinerating)  that  of  teaching  (at  least 
in  Africa,  where  there  are  no  native  schools)  and  the  higher 
training  for  the  ministry.  If  any  one  of  these  depart- 
,  ments  is  wanting,  the  work  is  not  progressing  towards  a 
self-sustaining  chupch,  and  the  policy  is  so  far  defective. 
But  here  is  work  for  several  men,  at  least,  at  one  mission 
station.  To  place  them  at  several  stations  means  that  no 
thorough  or  progressive  work  can  be  done  at  any  station. 
And  as  such  scattering  of  forces  is  poor  policy  it  is  also 
poor  economy.  For  a  station  is  usually  an  extensive 
property,  expensive  to  build  and  expensive  to  maintain. 
The  unnecessary  multiplying  of  stations  is  extravagance. 


A  CHURCH  357 

In  our  Presbyterian  mission  these  considerations  are 
being  fully  realized,  and  the  present  policy  evinces  a 
determination  to  do  thorough  work  in  the  field  already 
occupied  rather  than  to  enlarge  our  territory  at  the  ex- 
pense of  crippling  the  established  work.  We  have 
learned  by  our  failures  as  well  as  by  our  successes. 

The  result  of  an  inadequate  force  of  missionaries  at  a 
station  is  not  so  much  that  the  missionary  is  overworked 
— most  missionaries  are  not  making  any  such  complaint — 
but  that  the  work  is  not  adequately  done.  And  this 
wears  on  mind  and  heart  j  for  the  work  is  one,  and  if  a 
part  of  it  be  neglected  the  whole  must  suffer.  It  is  not 
the  work  that  the  missionary  actually  does  that  wears 
him  out,  but  that  which  he  does  not  do  and  cannot  do, 
although  perhaps  his  success  depends  upon  it. 

The  Fang  work  included  itinerating  over  a  field  more 
than  a  hundred  miles  by  fifty  miles,  and  the  charge  of  a 
school  in  which  I  had  no  adequate  assistant  for  two  years. 
To  this  was  added  the  Mpongwe  work  when  Mr.  BoppelFs 
health  compelled  him  to  leave  the  field.  The  Mpongwe 
work  included  the  charge  of  the  church  at  Baraka  with  its 
regular  Sunday  and  mid-week  services,  and  the  pastoral 
work,  a  class  in  the  Sunday-school,  a  teachers7  meeting, 
and  the  instruction  of  a  candidate  for  the  ministry.  At 
such  a  station  there  is  also  a  great  deal  of  secular  work  ; 
the  care  of  the  premises  and  the  buildings,  which  are  in 
constant  need  of  repair,  the  care  of  several  boats,  the 
buying  of  building  material,  the  charge  of  a  store,  order- 
ing and  receiving  our  own  supplies,  the  treasurership — the 
latter  a  large  work,  because  all  purchases  of  goods  and 
food  were  made  in  Europe  and  America.  I  suffered 
some  under  the  strain,  and  the  work,  of  course,  suffered 
more  than  I  did.  My  day  and  evening  were  laid  out  by 
the  hour  in  a  routine  that  was  fixed  as  far  as  circum- 
stances would  allow. 


358        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

The  arrival  of  an  English  steamer,  once  a  month,  de- 
ranged all  plans;  but  it  was  a  welcome  interruption, 
chiefly  because  it  brought  the  mail.  It  is  a  pathetic  in- 
stance of  the  white  man's  interest  that  the  natives  every- 
where, even  if  they  know  no  other  word  of  English,  have 
learned  to  call  the  steamer,  "  the  mail, "  because  this  is 
what  they  hear  the  white  man  say  when  he  sees  it.  The 
steamer  nearly  always  came  in  the  morning.  While  it 
was  still  fifteen  miles  away  we  could  see  the  smoke  on  the 
horizon.  There  was  always  a  strife  among  the  boys  and 
the  men  for  which  of  them  would  be  the  first  to  announce 
it.  At  the  sight  of  it  they  all  came  running  and  shouting, 
"Mail!  Mail !"  If  Toko  made  the  announcement  he 
would  say  :  ' '  Mr.  Milligan,  mail  live  for  come ;  I  look 
him." 

Immediately  I  call  Ndong  Koni  and  tell  him  to  call  the 
crew,  get  out  the  Evangeline,  and  see  that  they  all  have 
their  uniforms. 

Meanwhile  I  put  on  a  suit  of  white  drill,  such  as  I  have 
described,  a  white  helmet,  and  white  shoes.  Thus  attired 
in  the  regulation  best  I  go  aboard  and  take  breakfast 
with  the  captain,  who  gives  me  all  the  news  of  the  coast. 
If  he  has  cargo  for  the  mission  I  wait  until  it  is  dis- 
charged on  the  beach,  and  then  go  ashore  and  have  it 
carried  up  to  the  mission  storeroom.  When  this  is  done  I 
read  my  letters.  But  I  sometimes  carried  the  bundle  of 
them  around  with  me  full  half  a  day  before  reading  them ; 
and  I  always  waited  until  I  could  close  the  door  of  my 
study  and  give  the  order  that  I  was  not  to  be  disturbed. 

But  an  urgent  duty  awaits  me.  A  technical  and 
minute  declaration  in  French  must  be  made  of  any  and 
all  the  goods  that  have  arrived.  In  declaring  provisions, 
for  instance,  the  different  provisions  in  a  given  box  must 
be  declared  separately,  with  the  weight  of  each.  The 
boxes,  of  course,  could  not  be  opened  under  any  circum- 


A  CHURCH  359 

stances  until  everything  was  declared  and  a  permit  re- 
ceived. But  if  the  bills  of  lading  should  be  delayed,  or 
if  they  were  not  made  out  with  all  the  particular  weights, 
there  was  endless  trouble.  I  could  not  open  the  boxes 
until  I  made  the  declaration,  and  I  could  not  make  the 
declaration  until  I  opened  the  boxes.  In  such  a  case, 
after  much  waiting  and  annoyance,  an  officer  would  come 
and  I  would  open  the  boxes  in  his  presence.  Sometimes 
these  declarations  were  very  troublesome.  In  one  in- 
stance there  was  malted  milk  in  one  of  the  boxes.  I  did 
not  know  how  to  declare  it;  for  I  could  not  imagine 
under  what  class  it  would  come.  That  I  might  make  no 
mistake,  and  run  the  risk  of  a  fine,  I  sent  some  malted 
milk  that  I  had  already  on  hand  to  the  chef  of  the  douanes 
telling  him  what  it  was  and  how  it  was  made,  and  asking 
him  how  I  should  declare  it.  After  a  day's  consideration 
he  wrote  advising  me  that  malted  milk  should  be  declared 
as  pain  d'  epice — spiced  bread.  But  if  the  rules  and 
regulations  bothered  me,  I  must  say  that  the  French  cus- 
tom-officers are,  I  believe,  the  most  courteous  and  oblig- 
ing in  the  world,  and  a  striking  contrast  to  American 
custom-officers. 

But  besides  the  arrival  of  the  steamer  there  are  other 
interruptions  less  welcome.  While  I  am  busy  preparing 
my  sermon  for  Sunday,  in  time  stolen  from  other  duties, 
a  man  appears  at  the  door,  and  without  waiting  for 
recognition  asks  me  to  go  with  him  to  the  mission  store 
and  get  him  a  package  of  rat-poison — price  about  five 
cents.  Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not,  go  to  the  store  ?  We  are 
owing  him  this  amount  for  produce  he  has  sold  us,  and 
he  holds  a  i l  bon ' '  for  it,  which  he  can  negotiate  only  at 
our  store.  He  lives  far  away,  and  his  friends  are  waiting 
for  him.  Besides,  rat-poison  itself  is  a  kind  of  Gospel  in 
this  rat-ridden  land.  It  ranks  about  next  to  soap.  I  get 
him  his  rat-poison.  But  I  do  not  believe  in  mission 


360        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

stores.  At  some  stations,  of  course,  they  are  a  necessity  : 
at  some,  I  know  they  are  a  serious  hindrance  to  the  real 
work  of  the  missionary.  It  is  vain  to  answer  that  some 
money  (a  small  amount  at  the  most)  is  thus  turned  into 
the  mission  treasury.  I  reply  that  missionaries  are  not 
sent  out  to  make  money ;  let  those  who  stay  at  home  do 
that :  they  are  sent  to  spend  it.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  if 
I  accomplished  nothing  else  in  Africa  I  finally  sold  out 
that  mission  store,  and  gave  our  trade  to  one  of  the  trad- 
ing-houses. And  I  am  glad  also  to  add  that  instead  of  a 
financial  loss,  we  actually  gained  by  dealing  with  the 
traders,  not  to  speak  of  the  great  saving  of  time  for  the 
serious  work  of  the  missionary. 

The  work  of  itinerating  I  regarded  as  my  chief  work, 
however  much  detained  from  it.  For  most  men  it  is  also 
the  most  interesting  work,  inasmuch  as  it  brings  one  into 
contact  with  the  people  in  their  native  condition.  With 
all  their  savagery  there  is  really  very  little  danger  of  vio- 
lence at  their  hands.  But  a  drunken  savage  is  to  be 
feared.  Not  that  he  is  much  more  bloodthirsty  ;  but  his 
greed  overmasters  him,  and  he  might  easily  be  tempted 
to  kill  for  plunder.  For  if  the  white  man  had  nothing 
but  the  suit  of  clothes  which  he  had  on  him  he  would 
still  be  rich  enough  to  inspire  native  cupidity. 

One  Sunday  at  Nenge  Nenge,  a  town  sixty  miles  up  the 
river,  I  left  the  launch  at  anchor  and  went  on  up  the 
river  several  miles  in  a  canoe  borrowed  from  a  trading- 
house  located  at  Nenge  Nenge.  It  was  a  very  large 
canoe ;  and  since  the  workmen  were  all  idle,  the  trader 
gave  me  a  crew  of  fifteen  men.  The  West  African  trader 
is  supremely  generous  in  granting  all  such  favours.  It 
happened  that  a  short  time  before  this  a  white  trader  of 
Gaboon,  a  young  man  whom  I  knew  very  well,  who  had 
been  in  Africa  less  than  a  year,  returning  one  night  by 
boat  from  Elobey  Island  to  the  mainland,  was  drowned. 


A  CHURCH  361 

The  body  was  never  recovered,  and  indeed,  it  is  not  un- 
likely that  he  was  immediately  seized  and  devoured  by 
the  sharks.  Not  one  of  the  crew  was  lost,  and  although 
we  could  not  formulate  a  charge  against  them,  we  more 
than  suspected  foul  play  on  their  part.  No  one  will  ever 
know  the  tragedy  of  that  young  man's  last  hour. 

The  recency  of  this  occurrence  made  me,  perhaps,  more 
suspicious  than  usual,  or  qualified  my  courage,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  canoe  ride  at  Nenge  Nenge.  The  men 
had  all  been  drinking,  which  I  did  not  observe  until  we 
had  started,  and  they  were  all  of  one  tribe,  a  distinct  dis- 
advantage to  me  if  they  should  mean  mischief.  And 
what  was  worse,  they  were  just  fresh  from  a  distant  bush 
town,  and  never  had  been  in  contact  with  white  men. 
The  river  is  broad  at  this  place,  and  the  current  is  very 
swift.  They  first  started  to  sing  one  of  their  wild  and 
fascinating  boat-songs,  keeping  time  with  the  paddles. 
Then  the  leader  began  improvising,  according  to  their 
custom,  on  the  theme  of  the  white  man  and  the  white 
man's  riches,  the  others  responding  with  a  refrain.  They 
were  gradually  getting  excited,  and  were  swaying  their 
bodies  from  side  to  side,  so  that  I  feared  continually  that 
the  canoe  would  be  capsized.  Then  the  song  became  a 
yelling- match,  and  they  were  getting  still  more  excited. 
I  had  never  at  any  time  had  a  more  distinct  feeling  that 
I  was  in  a  dangerous  company  of  real  savages,  fifteen  to 
one,  and  if  I  had  been  in  their  musical  mood  I  should 
have  been  singing  Eobert  Louis  Stevenson's  immortal 
buccaneer  song  : 

"  Fifteen  men  on  the  dead  man's  chest  — 
Yo-ho-ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum  !  " 

Before  we  reached  the  most  secluded  part  of  the  river, 
and  while  there  was  still  a  small  town  to  be  passed,  I 
ordered  the  headman  to  go  close  into  the  bank  away  from 


302        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

the  current  until  we  should  pass  a  turn  in  the  river. 
When  I  came  close  to  the  bank  I  said  I  would  land  here. 
They  knew,  of  course,  that  this  was  not  my  destination, 
and  they  supposed  that  I  would  continue  the  journey  in 
a  few  minutes.  But  as  soon  as  I  had  landed  I  ordered 
them  back  to  Nenge  Kenge,  and  I  proceeded  in  a  small 
canoe  which  I  hired  at  the  town  near  by.  Thus  I  avoided 
the  possibility  of  being  cut  off  in  the  flower  of  my  youth. 
Or,  it  may  be  that  I  missed  an  adventure  that  I  should 
have  been  proud  to  tell  afterwards. 

I  often  found  the  whole  town  engaged  in  dancing,  of 
which  they  are  passionately  fond.  It  is  not  only  their 
chief  amusement,  but  also  serves  for  physical  culture,  and 
accounts  for  their  well-developed  forms  and  graceful  car- 
riage. A  great  dancer  among  them  becomes  widely 
known,  and  is  as  highly  esteemed  as  a  virtuoso  among  us. 
I  was  one  day  teaching  the  people  in  a  town  where  there 
were  four  Christians,  when  my  attention  was  arrested  by 
a  good-looking  and  singularly  well- developed  man  com- 
ing towards  us  down  the  street.  I  had  not  seen  in  Africa 
nearly  so  fine  a  form.  He  was  graceful  as  he  walked, 
and  much  more  so  when  he  threw  himself  down  on  the 
ground.  He  seemed  to  me  a  very  Apollo  Belvidere  in 
ebony.  They  told  me  that  he  was  a  famous  dancer.  He 
had  applied  himself  with  diligence  and  extraordinary 
perseverance  to  the  practice  of  all  the  difficult  move- 
ments of  the  native  dance  until  he  was  the  envy  of  the 
men  of  his  tribe.  It  was  probably  his  persistent  applica- 
tion to  this  practice,  and  his  constancy  of  purpose,  that 
gave  to  his  face  an  unusual  expression  of  gravity  and 
strength. 

I  was  reminded  of  the  story  told  by  Addison  of  a  shep- 
herd who  used  to  divert  himself  by  tossing  up  eggs  and 
catching  them  again  without  breaking  them  ;  in  which  he 
became  so  skillful  that  he  could  keep  up  four  at  a  time 


A  CHURCH  363 

for  several  minutes  together  ;  and  who,  by  his  persever- 
ance and  application  had  contracted  the  utmost  severity 
and  gravity  of  countenance.  * i  That  same  attention  and 
perseverance,"  says  Addison,  "had  they  been  rightly  ap- 
plied, might  have  made  him  a  greater  mathematician 
than  Archimedes." 

My  native  friend,  for  such  he  became,  remained  after 
the  service  to  talk  with  me.  He  had  come  from  his  town 
five  miles  through  the  bush  on  purpose  to  meet  me.  He 
said  he  had  been  in  this  town  frequently,  and  had  heard 
those  four  Christians  telling  the  people  about  God  and 
the  salvation  of  Christ,  and  he  desired  to  be  a  Christian. 
He  afterwards  put  away  an  extra  wife,  and  he  also  re- 
nounced his  dancing,  for  their  dances  are  associated  with 
certain  immoralities.  We  never  know  in  what  unlikely 
place  the  Shepherd  will  find  His  sheep.  Our  duty  is  to 
declare  His  Word  in  every  place,  and  His  sheep  will  hear 
His  voice  and  follow  Him. 

But  if  I  frequently  found  the  people  engaged  in  the 
noisy  dance,  I  sometimes  found  the  whole  town  steeped 
in  sleep.  One  day  I  entered  a  town  that  was  like  a  city 
of  the  dead  ;  absolutely  quiet,  and  no  one  to  be  seen.  I 
walked  the  length  of  the  town,  thrusting  my  head  in  at 
every  door,  and  asking  the  people  to  come  out  and  hear 
God's  message ;  but  only  one  man  came.  At  last  I  asked 
this  man  if  he  would  go  and  call  the  people.  He  started 
down  the  street,  calling  men  and  women  by  name  as  he 
passed,  telling  individuals  in  a  loud  voice  their  particular 
need  of  this  preaching  service,  because  of  their  personal 
sins,  which  he  forthwith  enumerated  and  charged  upon 
them,  exposing  the  private  wickedness  of  men  and 
women  in  brief  biographical  sketches,  which  it  might  be 
interesting  but  not  edifying  to  repeat.  I  need  not  say 
that  they  responded  to  this  urgent  invitation.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  whole  population  was  in  the  street,  eloquent 


364:        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

with  resentment.  One  might  think  that  they  had  the 
tenderest  reputations  to  sustain.  I  would  not  commend 
to  my  fellow  ministers  in  America  this  novel  method  of 
securing  a  congregation. 

But  how  would  one  preach  to  such  an  audience !  or 
what  would  one  say  ?  I  am  often  asked.  Well,  that  day 
I  asked  the  people  what  kind  of  a  king  they  would 
choose,  if  God  should  give  them  their  choice.  After 
some  discussion  they  settled  upon  the  idea  of  power. 
They  would  like  a  king  who  would  be  stronger  than  all 
their  enemies,  and  especially  stronger  than  the  Mpongwe 
people.  Then  I  taught  them  that  Jesus  whom  God  had 
sent  is  such  a  one ;  and  I  told  them  how  He  stilled  the 
storm.  Next,  I  asked  them  whether  power  alone  would 
be  sufficient.  They  first  thought  it  would.  "But,"  I 
said,  "suppose  your  king  had  no  sense.  Do  you  put  a 
gun  into  the  hands  of  a  child  f  And  would  you  like  to 
see  a  foolish  person  armed  with  power  that  none  of  you 
could  resist?" 

"Oh,"  they  said,  looking  at  one  another,  "  we  never 
thought  of  that,"  and  it  was  soon  agreed  that  the  king  of 
their  choice  must  be  wise  as  well  as  powerful.  Then  I 
said  that  Jesus  was  wise  with  the  wisdom  of  God,  know- 
ing all  our  needs  and  how  to  supply  them.  Again  I 
asked  if  this  was  all  they  would  desire  in  their  king,  that 
he  be  powerful  and  wise.  They  were  quite  sure. 

"But,"  I  said,  "suppose  he  were  bad I  that  he  loved 
only  himself  and  robbed  and  killed  you?  " 

Just  at  this  moment  a  little  child  began  to  cry,  and  all 
the  child's  numerous  parents,  a  considerable  part  of  the 
audience,  turned  upon  it  with  such  a  howl  of  remon- 
strance that  the  frightened  child  ran  for  the  bush. 

"Suppose,"  I  continued,  when  they  were  again  quiet, 
and  looking  as  if  they  had  done  a  good  work, — "suppose 
your  king  were  like  yourselves  (for  you  are  cruel  as 


A  CHURCH  365 

beasts)  and  that  lie  should  howl  at  you  and  frighten  you 
just  as  you  did  the  child?" 

That  would  be  a  calamity  indeed.  They  soon  agreed 
that  their  king  ought  also  to  be  good  ;  and  that  this  was 
the  principal  thing,  although  they  had  not  thought  of  it 
before.  And  again,  I  told  them  of  the  love  and  sacrifice 
of  Christ. 

But  do  I  really  think  that  they  heeded  this  Gospel  ? 
I  think  that  as  I  left  them  talking  together  some  probably 
laughed  at  the  message, — in  fact  I  heard  them, — some 
doubted,  and  some  perhaps  pondered  these  things  in  their 
hearts,  to  whom  they  may  afterwards  have  become  the 
words  of  eternal  life. 

One  often  must  turn  aside  during  the  service  to  answer 
irrevelant  remarks.  I  was  once  preaching  in  a  town 
where  the  white  man  had  only  been  seen  a  few  times,  and 
was  still  an  object  of  as  much  curiosity  as  would  be  an  in- 
habitant of  Mars,  if  he  should  make  his  advent  among 
us,  when  a  woman  in  the  audience  tried  to  attract  my  at- 
tention by  repeating,  i  i  I  say,  white  man !  I  say  !  I  say ! ' ' 

At  last  I  asked  her  what  she  wanted.  She  said  :  "I 
want  to  ask  you  a  question. "  I  told  her  to  wait  until  I 
had  finished  talking.  But  she  could  not  wait,  and  she 
kept  on  interrupting  me,  until  at  length  I  said  :  "  What 
is  your  question  ?  "  She  said  :  "  I  want  to  know  if  your 
feet  are  as  white  as  your  hands  and  face  t " 

0  shade  of  Saint  Paul,  who  commanded  that  women 
keep  silence  in  the  churches,  and  if  they  wanted  to  know 
anything  to  ask  their  husbands  at  home,  how  well  I  now 
understand  that  injunction ! 

1  answered  :     i  i  Yes,  my  feet  are  as  white  as  my  hands 
and  face,"  and  I  tried  to  proceed  with  the  sermon.     I 
had  on  black  socks,  and  it  seems  that  some  of  the  women, 
observing  them,  declared  that  the  white  man  was  not  all 
white  5  that  only  his  hands  and  face  were  white,  and  that 


366        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

the  rest  of  him  was  as  black  as  themselves.  My  answer, 
therefore,  did  not  satisfy  them  all.  Some  said,  "  You  lie, 
white  man.  We  have  eyes  ;  you  lie."  I  was  well  used 
to  this  inartistic  form  of  contradiction,  and  I  did  not 
object. 

They  kept  on  disputing  about  the  socks.  But  again 
the  same  woman  said  :  "  Well,  white  man,  we  want  to 
see  for  ourselves. " 

I  could  not  lose  the  opportunity  of  a  service  merely  for 
the  sake  of  my  dignity  ;  so  I  slipped  off  a  shoe  and  a  sock 
and  showed  the  audience  a  white  man's  foot,  and  they  all 
agreed  that  it  was  beautiful. 

Was  I  speaking  of  dignity  ?  Ah  me  !  Dignity  fades 
away  to  a  vague  impalpability,  and  finally  becomes  a 
cherished  memory. 

I  have  already  said  that  the  Gospel  at  first  hearing  is 
scarcely  intelligible,  and  time  alone  brings  moral  results. 
I  distinctly  recall  the  first  religious  service  that  I  at- 
tended among  the  Bulu.  To  them  also  it  was  the  first 
service.  It  was  conducted  by  Dr.  Good.  Before  he  got 
to  the  sermon  he  asked  me  to  offer  a  prayer.  After  a 
word  of  explanation,  through  an  interpreter,  about  the 
nature  of  prayer,  I  requested  the  people  to  close  their 
eyes,  and  I  proceeded  to  pray  in  English.  Now,  this 
closing  of  the  eyes  had  very  uncanny  associations  in  their 
minds.  I  have  already  told  of  the  Ngi  (gorilla)  Society, 
the  head  of  which  assumes  the  form  and  disposition  of  a 
gorilla.  He  approaches  the  town  roaring  like  a  gorilla, 
and  women  and  children  shut  their  eyes  until  he  passes  ; 
for  if  they  see  him  they  will  die.  When  I  asked  the  peo- 
ple to  close  their  eyes  it  at  once  suggested  to  them  some 
demon  spell  like  that  of  Ngi,  but  probably  more  terrible. 
All  of  them,  men  and  women,  snapped  their  eyes  shut, 
and  kept  them  closed  tight.  And  the  terrified  women, 
grabbing  the  babies  from  their  backs  (every  Bulu  woman 


A  CHURCH  367 

has  a  baby  on  her  back),  held  their  hands  over  the 
babies'  eyes,  and  with  such  pressure  that  the  poor  babies 
simultaneously  raised  a  howl  of  remonstrance,  which  in 
turn  frightened  the  dogs  (who  made  a  considerable  part 
of  the  audience)  and  they  began  to  bark.  A  panic  en- 
sued, in  which  the  people,  keeping  their  eyes  tight 
closed,  tumbled  pell-mell  out  of  all  sides  of  the  house.  I 
was  struggling  with  a  horrid  and  profane  impulse  to 
laugh  ;  but  I  was  a  little  afraid  of  Dr.  Good  ;  for  I  had 
not  known  him  long,  and  he  was  my  senior.  When  I 
turned,  however,  I  saw  him  fairly  doubled  with  laughter, 
and  I  experienced  a  delightful  sense  of  freedom,  and  let 
nature  take  its  course. 

On  one  occasion  I  preached  to  a  large  audience  a 
sermon  that  seemed  to  me  quite  practical,  telling  them 
that  their  chief  troubles  were  within,  or  "  inside,"  as  I 
said  it  in  Fang.  u  Your  chief  trouble,"  I  said,  a  is  not 
the  French  government,  against  which  you  are  always 
complaining  ;  nor  is  it  these  other  tribes  with  whom  you 
are  always  at  war  ;  but  your  chief  trouble  is  inside  of 
you,  in  your  own  hearts." 

When  I  had  finished,  a  leading  man  arose,  and  with  a 
grand  air  took  up  the  theme.  "  The  white  man  is 
right,"  he  said  ;  "our  worst  suffering  is  inside  of  us.  It 
is  not  war — nor  witchcraft — nor  itch — nor  flies — but 
worms  inside."  He  thought  I  had  preached  a  very  help- 
ful sermon,  and  invited  me  to  come  back  again. 

At  this  distance  of  time  I  can  smile;  but  such  a 
response  is  a  great  trial  of  faith  to  a  new  missionary, 
especially  if  he  has  been  led  to  expect  startling  results 
and  many  conversions  attending  the  very  first  preaching 
of  the  Gospel.  At  first  I  was  disheartened  at  the  carnality 
and  ignorance  depicted  in  the  faces  of  such  audiences. 
Yet,  after  a  few  years  of  persistent  work  and  patient 
waiting,  I  saw  scores  and  scores  of  just  such  people  spirit- 


368        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFKICA 

ually  and  morally  transformed  j  and  more  marvellous  was 
the  result  from  such  a  beginning. 

A  certain  old  chief  responded  to  a  sermon  on  future 
punishment  by  saying  that  he  would  send  one  of  his  wives 
to  hell  in  his  place,  and  when  I  suggested  that  such  an  ar- 
rangement might  be  attended  with  serious  difficulties  he 
said  he  would  send  two  of  them.  Then,  when  I  told  him 
that  judging  by  the  history  he  gave  of  his  wives  they 
would  probably  be  going  there  on  their  own  account,  he 
said  he  supposed  he  would  have  to  give  God  a  couple  of 
ivories  for  his  ransom. 

One  day  I  went  to  a  new  Fang  town,  Yengal,  about  two 
miles  along  the  beach  from  Baraka.  The  tide  was  ris- 
ing, and  I  had  to  wade  through  water  for  some  distance  ; 
at  one  place  it  was  to  my  waist.  I  preached  in  those 
dripping  clothes.  On  the  way  to  the  town  I  overtook 
the  chief  and  his  head  wife.  He  was  very  much  pleased 
when  he  found  I  was  going  to  his  town,  and  he  walked 
ahead  of  me,  wading  into  the  deeper  streams  to  see 
whether  or  not  they  were  too  deep  for  me  to  wade  ;  for 
they  were  rising  fast  with  the  tide.  If  I  had  not  been  al- 
ready wet,  he  would  have  carried  me  over  the  streams, 
and  all  the  deeper  places.  By  the  time  we  reached  the 
town  we  were  good  friends.  He  called  the  people  to- 
gether, and  they  all  came  and  gave  me  their  attention 
during  the  service.  I  told  them  of  a  way  that  leads  to 
eternal  life,  and  a  way  that  leads  to  destruction. 

When  I  had  finished  speaking,  this  chief  said  to  me  in 
a  most  earnest  manner:  "Now  tell  me  plainly,  white 
man,  which  road  to  take  when  I  die  T  If  you  will  tell  me 
whether  to  take  the  road  on  the  right,  or  the  one  on  the 
left,  I  shall  remember." 

That  he  had  been  kind  and  courteous  to  me  on  the  way, 
made  me  feel  but  the  greater  compassion  that  his  mind 
was  an  abyss  of  darkness. 


A  CHURCH  369 

I  have  sometimes  found  a  town  in  a  state  of  prepara- 
tion and  eager  inquiry  through  their  casual  meeting  with 
native  Christians.  One  day  I  sailed  with  the  Evangeline  to 
a  town  fifteen  miles  away,  called  Men  Akidia — Dawn  of  the 
Morning  ;  for  it  is  built  upon  a  hill  that  rises  above  the 
surrounding  bush  so  that  they  can  see  the  first  light  of 
day.  I  stayed  in  the  town  over  night.  In  the  evening  a 
large  audience  gathered  in  the  palaver-house,  which  was 
lighted  by  a  tiny  lamp.  It  had  no  chimney,  to  be  sure, 
but  still  it  was  the  boast  of  the  town.  They  had  been 
learning  for  several  years  of  the  Christian  religion  from 
ill-instructed  natives,  but  I  do  not  know  that  any  Prot- 
estant missionary  had  ever  preached  there.  They 
listened  so  attentively  and  earnestly  that  I  talked  to  them 
for  more  than  an  hour.  Then,  being  tired,  I  went  out  and 
sat  near  by  in  the  dark,  but  they  remained,  gravely  dis- 
cussing what  they  had  heard.  The  chief  in  closing  said  : 
"We  have  done  all  these  things  that  God  hates.  We 
have  beaten  our  wives  and  made  them  work  like  slaves. 
We  have  been  cruel  to  children,  and  we  have  neglected 
the  sick.  But  I  think  God  will  forgive  us  when  we  tell 
Him  we  did  not  know.  We  have  lived  in  great  dark- 
ness ;  but  now  the  light  has  come  ;  we  must  change  our 
ways.  And  you  women,  you  need  not  be  puffed  up  be- 
cause the  white  man  took  your  part ;  for  you  are  the 
cause  of  most  of  our  troubles.  We  must  all  change  our 
ways.  I  hope  the  white  man  will  come  back  soon  and 
help  us ;  for  we  need  help.'7 

The  grave  tone  and  serious  manner  of  the  speaker, 
with  the  dark  and  silent  night  surrounding,  all  deepened 
the  impression  of  his  words,  which  seemed  the  most 
pathetic  I  had  heard  from  heathen  lips  ;  and  often  again 
I  went  to  Elen  Akidia — Dawn  of  the  Morning. 

I  once  visited  a  town  where  there  was  a  sick  woman, 
close  to  death  and  in  great  agony.  She  had  become  ill 


370        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

suddenly,  and  the  people,  not  knowing  the  cause,  con- 
cluded she  was  a  witch,  or  rather  that  she  had  a  witch. 
The  witch  in  her  had  turned  on  her,  and  was  eating  her. 
For  the  woman  had  convulsions,  and  that  was  a  sign  that 
the  witch  was  eating  her.  They  were  now  able  to  ac- 
count for  the  death  of  several  children  in  the  town  ;  this 
woman  had,  without  doubt,  bewitched  them.  Her  spirit, 
being  " loose  from  her  body,'7  had  gone  out  in  the  night, 
and  while  the  children  were  sleeping,  had  eaten  them. 
Next  morning  the  children  appeared  to  be  well,  but  they 
immediately  began  to  fail,  and  after  a  while  they  sickened 
and  died. 

I  found  the  woman  lying  on  a  bed,  consisting  of  noth- 
ing but  poles  laid  upon  the  ground,  although  the  town 
was  near  the  coast,  and  they  were  long  accustomed  to 
better  beds.  The  town  was  built  in  a  mangrove  swamp, 
and  the  mosquitoes  were  so  thick  that  to  be  exposed  to 
them  was  torture  that  one  could  not  long  endure.  But 
this  woman's  bed  had  no  mosquito  net,  although  all  the 
other  beds  in  town  were  thus  furnished.  Every  little 
while  her  body  was  convulsed,  and  her  features  distorted 
with  pain.  I  gave  her  some  medicine,  although  I  had  no 
idea  what  was  the  matter  with  her  ;  for  I  had  only  been 
in  Africa  a  short  time.  I  was  sure  that  the  medicine  did 
her  no  harm,  however,  and  that  is  the  principal  con- 
sideration. But  it  served  to  teach  a  moral  lesson.  I  told 
my  boys  to  make  a  fire  in  her  house,  and  I  tried  to  make 
her  comfortable.  Her  friends  refused  to  help  me. 

"The  woman  is  a  witch,"  they  said,  "and  the  sooner 
she  dies,  the  better." 

When  I  had  made  her  more  comfortable  I  began  to  talk 
to  her  about  God  and  her  need  of  pardon.  At  first  she 
seemed  destitute  of  any  spiritual  instinct.  The  chief 
regret  that  she  had  about  dying  was  that  she  did  not 
want  to  leave  her  goods.  Her  goods !  a  brass  bracelet 


A  CHURCH  3T1 

and  leg  ring  j  a  few  yards  of  calico,  perhaps  ;  a  little  oil 
for  the  body,  and  what  else  but  mosquitoes  ?  But  there 
are  crises  in  which  the  mind  is  not  subject  to  the  ordi- 
nary limitations  of  time,  but  in  a  few  hours  lives  through 
the  experience  of  years.  The  woman  gradually  grasped 
the  idea  of  God's  love  and  the  possibilities  of  the  future. 
A  great  and  mysterious  change  came  over  her,  and  she 
said:  "I  have  been  a  wicked  woman.  What  shall  I 
do  t"  I  told  her  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  And,  like  the 
penitent  thief,  in  agony  and  pain,  she  too  ceased  cursing 
and  began  to  pray.  That  night,  as  I  lay  in  a  house  near 
by,  I  heard  her  repeating  in  broken  sentences  :  "  Me  me 
ye  mam  abe".  Me  me  ye  mam  abe\  Atat,  kwege  me 
ngongol,  Atat.  M'abune  Je"su.  M'abune  J£su."  —  I  am 
sinful.  I  am  sinful.  Father,  have  mercy  on  me.  I 
believe  in  Jesus.  I  believe  in  Jesus. 

I  left  the  town  before  morning,  and  two  days  later  she 
died,  still  saying:  "Atat,  kwege  me  ngongol.     M'abune 


Even  the  sincerest  converts  have  need  of  the  most 
patient  instruction  in  the  morals  of  Christianity.  Many 
white  men  seem  to  make  a  business  of  scoffing  at  the 
moral  attempts  of  the  native,  when  God,  who  looks  upon 
the  heart,  probably  approves.  The  first  earnest  inquirer 
among  the  Bulu  at  Efulen  was  a  man  named  Zanga, 
whom  Dr.  Good  was  daily  instructing.  One  Sunday, 
when  Dr.  Good  was  in  Zanga'  s  town,  he  found  him  work- 
ing, and  he  told  him  the  law  of  the  Sabbath  day.  Zanga 
had  already  learned  of  it,  but  he  did  not  think  that  the 
work  he  was  doing  was  forbidden,  because  Dr.  Good  had 
not  mentioned  that  particular  work.  He  at  once  stopped, 
and  promised  that  henceforth  he  would  keep  the  Sabbath 
in  all  reverence.  The  next  Sunday  Dr.  Good  found  him 
again  at  work,  putting  a  thatch  roof  on  a  house,  and  he 
again  corrected  him. 


372        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Zanga  replied:  "Why,  you  don't  call  this  work,  do 
you  ?  "  But  he  stopped  it,  as  before. 

The  next  Sunday  Dr.  Good  again  entered  Zanga' s 
town.  Zanga  saluted  him,  exclaiming  enthusiastically : 
"  Ah,  Ngoot,  I  am  keeping  the  Sabbath  fine  to-day.  I 
have  hired  two  men  to  make  the  roof,  and  I  am  just  sit- 
ting here  giving  them  orders."  He  was  doing  as  well  as 
he  knew  ;  and  most  of  us  know  far  more  than  we  do. 
God  knows  our  thoughts  and  intentions. 

At  the  beginning  of  my  third  year  among  the  Fang,  I 
began  to  feel  that  the  time  of  harvest  was  drawing  near. 
People  from  towns  far  and  near  began  to  bring  their 
fetishes  to  me,  laying  them  at  my  feet,  and  renouncing 
them  j  and  the  surrender  of  their  fetishes  was  a  better 
confession  than  could  have  been  made  in  words.  I  espe- 
cially required  the  surrender  of  the  father's  skull,  the  most 
sacred  fetish  of  the  men.  I  soon  had  so  many  of  these 
uncanny  things  that  the  question  what  I  should  do  with 
them  became  urgent.  When  I  was  leaving  Africa,  a 
Christian  native,  who  had  heard  that  I  was  taking  some 
of  these  skulls  with  me,  came  to  me  in  great  anxiety  and 
asked  me  whether  I  had  considered  the  confusion  that 
might  take  place  at  the  resurrection  if  those  skulls  were 
on  the  other  side  of  the  sea.  Sure  enough,  I  had  never 
thought  of  that.  I  scarcely  realized  the  degradation  of 
their  beliefs  until  men  and  women  brought  their  fetishes 
to  me,  and  explained  them  fully  as  they  renounced  them. 

One  day  I  visited  a  town  in  which  twenty-two  persons, 
five  men  and  seventeen  women,  stood  up  in  a  line  in  the 
street,  and  delivering  up  all  their  fetishes,  renounced 
them,  and  said  that  they  would  follow  Christ  and  worship 
only  the  true  God.  This  was  the  first  large  group  of 
Christians  in  one  town,  and  when  a  church  was  after- 
wards organized  I  gave  it  the  name  of  that  town,  Ayol, 
which  is  still  the  name  of  the  Fang  church.  The  Ayol 


A  CHURCH  ,373 

Church  belongs  to  Corisco  Presbytery,  and  to  the  Synod 
of  New  Jersey.  In  a  few  months  there  were  a  hundred 
Christians,  and  at  the  end  of  a  year,  two  hundred,  scat- 
tered over  the  large  Fang  field  in  groups  of  six,  eight,  or 
ten  persons  in  a  town.  They  had  all  discarded  their 
fetishes,  and  they  were  meeting  together  every  evening  to 
sing  and  pray  in  the  hearing  of  all  the  people. 

The  fact  that  those  Christians  were  not  in  a  single 
community,  but  scattered  over  extensive  territory  and  in 
widely  separated  towns,  ^greatly  enlarged  the  outlook  for 
the  future.  In  a  single  community,  it  sometimes  happens 
that  when  a  few  persons  of  influence  and  decision  become 
Christians  they  make  Christianity  popular,  and  the 
thoughtless  crowd  follow  their  lead,  but  never  exhibit  a 
strong  type  of  Christian  character.  And  this  suggests 
another  objection  to  the  small,  undermanned  station.  Its 
work  is  usually  restricted  to  the  vicinity  of  its  location, 
where  the  tremendous  prestige  of  the  white  man  makes 
Christianity  dangerously  popular,  and  where  the  Chris- 
tians are  near  enough  to  the  missionary  to  lean  upon  him 
for  spiritual  support,  and  perhaps  for  worldly  support  also 
if  they  are  very  poor.  But  these  small  groups  of  Fang 
Christians,  scattered  in  towns  far  apart,  were  leaders,  not 
followers,  of  others.  They  became  Christians  when 
Christianity  was  not  popular,  and  had  no  artificial 
prestige.  They  were  far  enough  away  from  the  mission 
for  wholesome  independence,  and  near  enough  for  the 
help  which  they  really  needed.  They  also  had  a  field  of 
opportunity  immediately  around  them,  and  the  whole 
number  brought  into  contact  with  the  Gospel  was  very 
great. 

These  Christians  in  saluting  each  other  invariably  use 
the  term,  "  Brother, "  though  they  may  belong  to  hostile 
and  warring  clans,  and  before  they  became  Christians 
might  not  have  been  able  to  pass  each  other  without  fight- 


374        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

ing.  And,  strange  enough,  I  did  not  teach  them  this 
salutation  ;  for  I  never  used  it  myself  until  they  estab- 
lished it.  Flesh  and  blood  did  not  reveal  it  to  them,  but 
the  Spirit  of  God ;  for  where  Christ  is,  there  is  the  in- 
stinct of  brotherhood. 

The  number  of  Christians  gives  no  idea  whatever  of 
the  whole  effect  of  Christian  influence.  Between  African 
heathenism  and  Christian  faith  there  is  an  immense  inter- 
val j  and  multitudes,  while  not  professing  to  be  Chris- 
tians, were  yet  far  removed  from  their  former  heathenism. 
Old  beliefs  were  all  unfixed,  with  a  corresponding  change 
in  morals.  Cannibalism  almost  ceases  at  the  first  sound 
of  the  Gospel,  and  wars  become  less  frequent. 

One  day  two  men  called  upon  me,  who  were  not  to  be 
suspected  of  any  inclination  to  Christianity.  They  told 
me  that  the  sea  had  been  dreadfully  rough  during  the 
whole  night  in  which  they  were  on  their  way  to  Gaboon. 
They  thought  they  would  all  be  lost.  One  of  these  two 
men  said  to  the  others :  "  We  have  been  sinning  against 
God,  for  we  have  been  travelling  to  the  market  all  this 
Sabbath  day,  and  we  know  that  it  is  wrong."  Then 
they  all  prayed  to  God,  as  the  Christians  pray,  asking 
that  He  would  forgive  them  and  save  them.  I  asked 
him  why  he  did  not  trust  his  fetishes  in  the  hour  of 
need  ;  for  he  had  enough  of  them  on  him. 

" Fetishes  are  nothing/7  he  replied;  "it  was  only  an 
angry  God  that  we  feared."  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
ignorance  in  all  this  ;  but  it  showed  that  they  were  far 
removed  from  their  former  faith  in  fetishes  ;  for  in  the 
crisis  they  forsook  the  fetishes,  and  turned  to  God. 

The  care  of  all  these  new  converts,  or  catechumens, 
added  an  entirely  new  department  to  my  work,  and  al- 
ready the  departments  were  numerous.  A  convert  is 
baptized  and  received  into  the  church  only  after  he  has 
been  two  years  on  probation  ;  and  during  those  two  years 


A  CHURCH  375 

he  is  supposed  to  receive  a  regular  course  of  instruction. 
These  Christians  were  now  asking  for  such  instruction 
that  they  might  be  received  into  the  church.  My  pur- 
pose had  been  to  form  a  class  in  each  of  the  towns  where 
Christians  resided,  and  to  place  a  catechist  in  charge  of 
several  adjacent  towns,  who  would  live  among  the  people, 
and  teach  them  daily.  But  my  catechists  were  not  yet 
ready,  though  for  some  time  I  had  been  preparing  for  the 
emergency.  In  connection  with  the  school  I  had  a  class 
of  young  men,  to  whom  I  had  been  giving  special  atten- 
tion, in  the  hope  that  they  might  be  fitted  for  the  work 
of  catechists.  Yielding  to  the  exigency  of  circumstances, 
I  placed  three  of  these,  Amvama,  Obiang,  and  Eyena,  in 
three  principal  towns  to  teach  the  people.  It  was  a  mis- 
take, however,  and  I  soon  recalled  them. 

During  the  next  year  I  concentrated  my  efforts  upon 
this  class  of  catechists,  and  meanwhile,  I  visited  these 
groups  of  Christians  as  often  as  possible,  just  to  keep  up 
their  courage.  My  catechists  accompanied  me  in  my 
itinerating,  and  much  of  their  training  was  in  the  actual 
work  of  preaching  and  teaching,  and  in  discussions  and 
criticisms  as  we  travelled  between  the  towns.  But  occa- 
sional and  desultory  teaching  did  not  answer  the  needs  of 
these  new  converts.  It  was  hard  to  keep  them  waiting  ; 
for  they  had  delivered  up  their  fetishes,  and  were  help- 
lessly asking,  "What  shall  we  do  next?"  I  kept  them 
waiting  a  whole  year  before  I  sent  out  the  catechists. 
Those  were  strainful  as  well  as  joyful  times,  and  it  was 
then  that  I  received  the  name  by  which  all  the  Fang  came 
to  know  me,  "Mote  Ke  Ye,'' — Man  who  doesn't  sleep. 

In  one  of  my  towns  six  persons  who  had  professed  their 
faith  in  Christ  became  weary  of  waiting,  and  went  over 
to  the  Eoman  Catholics.  For  a  Jesuit  priest  of  the 
French  mission  had  visited  them,  and  offered  to  teach 
them  at  once.  I  need  not  say  that  it  hurt  to  have  the 


376        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

Jesuits  gather  the  harvest  for  which  I  had  waited  so  long. 
I  should  have  welcomed  their  help  if  I  believed  that  they 
had  a  real  Gospel  for  the  people.  There  were  so  many 
towns  in  which  no  missionary  work  whatever  had  been 
done  that  I  had  always  been  sufficiently  courteous  to  pass 
by  those  towns  where  they  were  working,  and  go  on 
to  those  which  were  utterly  heathen.  But  the  Jesuits 
did  not  reciprocate  this  courtesy.  Usually,  as  soon  as 
they  heard  that  I  had  placed  a  catechist  in  a  certain  town, 
they  immediately  sent  one  of  their  catechists  to  that  same 
town.  A  priest  visited  Ayol,  where,  as  I  have  said,  there 
were  twenty-two  Christians.  He  knew  that  they  had 
been  waiting  long  for  instruction.  He  first  tried  to  im- 
press upon  them  that  baptism  was  necessary  to  salvation  ; 
and  he  told  them  that  the  reason  "  Mr.  Milligan  "  did  not 
baptize  them  was  that  he  was  their  enemy,  and  was  try- 
ing to  keep  them  out  of  heaven.  Then  he  said  that  he 
himself  was  willing  to  baptize  them  then  and  there,  and 
receive  them  into  the  church.  There  were  several  shrewd 
men  among  the  Christians  who  kept  them  all  loyal. 
They  said  :  "  We  are  not  ready  to  be  baptized.  We  have 
not  been  taught. "  Then  the  priest  offered  to  stay  there 
a  week  and  teach  them  every  day.  But  they  refused 
outright,  and  said  they  would  not  be  baptized  by  any- 
body but  myself. 

There  were  many  strings  to  this  man's  fiddle.  When 
he  went  into  a  town  where  he  perceived  that  there  was  a 
strong  tie  between  the  people  and  me,  he  would  assume  a 
most  friendly  and  even  affectionate  attitude  towards  me. 
In  one  such  town  he  found  one  of  my  catechists,  Eyena, 
who  had  a  large  class  of  thirty-one  persons,  some  of  whom 
were  only  inquirers  and  not  converts.  The  priest  told 
the  people  that  he  and  I  were  the  best  of  friends,  and  that 
they  ought  to  treat  us  both  alike ;  that  this  large  class 
ought  to  divide  into  two  parts,  and  he  would  place  a 


A  CHURCH  377 

catecliist  there  who  would  teach  half  of  them.  They  did 
not  waver.  But  finding  that  there  were  several  men  in 
the  class  who  were  not  yet  converts,  but  inquirers,  and 
who  were  living  in  polygamy,  he  at  last  told  those  men 
that  if  they  would  enter  his  class  they  could  be  Chris- 
tians without  putting  away  their  wives.  This  inducement 
enticed  four  men  out  of  the  class.  He  could  the  better 
take  advantage  of  me  because  I  made  it  a  point  never  to 
refer  to  him  among  the  people. 

When  I  was  once  away  for  a  health-change,  he  visited 
one  of  my  towns  where  there  were  sixteen  newly  converted 
Christians.  With  great  enthusiasm  he  made  the  bold 
announcement  that  Mr.  Milligan  had  been  converted  to 
the  Eoman  Catholic  faith  and  that  he  had  come  to  bap- 
tize them  and  receive  them  into  the  only  true  Church. 
They  were  staggered.  I  do  not  know  what  might  have 
happened  had  it  not  been  for  a  certain  man,  Angoua. 
Augona  stepping  forward,  said:  "If  Mr.  Milligan  is  a 
Catholic  we  will  all  become  Catholics.  But  we  will  only 
be  baptized  by  him.  So  we  will  wait  until  he  comes. " 
Despite  this  opposition  this  Jesuit  and  myself  always 
seemed  to  be  good  friends  when  we  met. 

One  day  I  walked  to  an  island  town  six  miles  away. 
It  was  a  new  town  ;  the  people  had  recently  come  from 
the  bush.  The  road,  being  also  new,  was  very  bad  :  we 
sometimes  waded  in  mud  to  our  knees.  Ndong  Koni 
called  it  ebol  nzen — a  rotten  road.  While  I  was  speaking 
to  the  people  of  the  town,  on  the  subject  of  a  future  life, 
endeavouring  to  awaken  their  interest  by  asking  questions 
as  to  what  they  knew  and  believed  regarding  it,  I  ob- 
served in  the  audience  two  persons,  a  man  and  a  woman, 
wearing  a  Eoman  crucifix,  and  I  addressed  my  question 
to  them.  I  found  them  quite  as  ignorant  as  any  of  the 
others.  "Most  of  us,"  they  said,  " have  some  belief  in 
a  future  life;  but  we  really  do  not  know."  "For  my 


378        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

part,"  said  the  man,  "  I  believe  that  death  finishes  every- 
thing." 

Pointing  to  the  crucifix  which  he  wore,  I  asked  him 
what  it  meant.  He  replied  :  "This  is  a  Catholic  fetish. 
A  priest  came  into  this  town  when  I  was  very  sick  and 
put  this  thing  on  me.  I  suppose  it  is  a  health-fetish,  for 
I  soon  got  well  and  I  have  not  been  sick  since." 

The  woman  was  as  ignorant  as  the  man,  and  they  rep- 
resent a  large  class  who  have  been  baptized  and  are  wear- 
ing the  crucifix  without  any  idea  of  its  meaning.  Thus 
is  the  cross  of  Christ  degraded  to  the  level  of  an  African 
fetish.  I  would  not  say,  however,  that  this  is  the  rule. 
I  am  sure  it  is  not. 

The  Jesuits  instil  a  certain  idea  of  morality ;  but  it 
leaves  much  to  be  desired.  One  day  a  girl  who  had  just 
come  from  confession  was  quarrelling  with  a  male  cousin, 
or  more  likely  he  was  quarrelling  with  her,  when  in  reply 
to  some  scurrilous  observation,  she  said  to  him:  "I 
would  half  kill  you  if  I  were  not  in  a  state  of  grace.  But 
you  just  wait !" 

Time  passed,  and  I  had  five  catechists  in  the  field.  At 
last  some  of  the  catechumens  were  ready  to  be  baptized. 
Then  the  church  was  organized  at  Ayol,  with  fourteen 
members.  They  were  not  likely  to  confound  the  church 
of  Christ  with  any  mere  building  made  with  hands ;  for 
as  yet  there  was  no  building.  We  organized  the  church 
and  held  the  first  communion  service  in  the  street.  The 
second  communion  service  was  held  in  another  town 
called  Makwena,  Ndong  Koni's  town,  where  his  uncle 
was  chief.  The  Christians  of  Makwena  had  built  a  beau- 
tiful chapel  of  bamboo,  with  doors  and  windows  on  hinges. 
Ndong  Koni  had  worked  in  the  yard  at  Baraka  in  order 
to  buy  those  doors  and  windows  for  the  church. 

On  the  occasion  of  this  second  communion  service  I 
spent  the  preceding  Saturday  in  going  to  Ayol  and  sev- 


H    « 


A  CHURCH  379 

eral  other  widely  separated  towns  with  the  Dorothy,  gath- 
ering the  people  for  the  service.  Early  Sunday  morning 
I  pulled  into  Makwena  with  sixty  people  in  the  launch, 
on  top  of  it,  and  in  a  big  canoe  behind.  They  were  sing- 
ing hymns,  and  singing  them  beautifully,  for  there  were 
enough  of  my  schoolboys  there  to  take  the  parts.  Be- 
tween the  hymns  they  occupied  the  time  with  the  praises 
of  Dorothy,  the  like  of  which,  for  comfort  and  for  speed, 
they  had  never  dreamed  of.  Upon  our  arrival  a  large 
number  of  people  came  down  to  welcome  their  fellow 
Christians.  They  wore  more  clothing  than  the  whole 
town  had  formerly  possessed.  These  Christians  were  of 
various  tribes  who  in  former  times  had  been  contin- 
ually at  war  with  each  other.  And  I  could  imagine  such 
a  company  coming  together  and  making  the  little  river 
run  red  like  crimson  with  each  other's  blood.  But  now 
they  were  all  saluting  each  other  as,  "  Brother "  and 
" Sister"  ;  and  there  was  such  hand-shaking  and  social 
palaver  that  it  scarcely  seemed  possible  there  could  be  so 
much  happiness  in  that  land  of  cruelty  and  tears.  And 
as  I  reflected  that  these  were  but  the  first-fruits  of  a  great 
harvest,  all  the  labour,  the  trials,  the  perils,  the  sickness 
of  the  years  that  had  passed  seemed  as  nothing. 

Among  those  who  were  baptized  that  day  I  distinctly 
recall  a  certain  old  woman  who  had  probably  lived  long 
enough  to  have  experienced  all  the  evils  and  the  suffering 
of  heathenism.  Her  face  was  almost  beautiful  with  the 
light  of  joy  that  shone  in  her  eyes.  Her  paltry  garment 
was  so  scrappy  and  so  scanty  that  I  wondered  whether 
there  was  enough  of  it  to  meet  the  requirements  of  pro- 
priety. But  when  she  came  into  the  service  she  was 
dressed  in  a  pure  white  robe  that  came  up  to  her  shoul- 
ders and  reached  to  her  feet,  and  was  held  with  a  black 

bsh. 

I  baptized  thirty-seven  persons  and  received  several 


380        THE  JUNGLE  FOLK  OF  AFRICA 

whom  I  had  already  baptized  at  Baraka,  making  in  all 
fifty-five  members  in  the  Ayol  church  at  the  end  of  that 
year  j  and  besides  there  were  nearly  two  hundred  cate- 
chumens. All  those  whom  I  baptized  had  been  on  pro- 
bation and  under  instruction  for  two  years  or  more.  It 
was  a  long  service,  but  the  time  passed  quickly  for  us  all, 
and  more  so  because  we  sang  many  hymns.  At  length 
we  closed  the  service  by  repeating  all  together  the  Lord's 
Prayer : 

' i  Tate  wa  a  n>  eyo,  e  jui  die  e  bon  eki.  Ayofi  die  nzak. 
Mam  w'  a  nyege,  be  boiie  mo  e  si  ene,  ane  b'  a  bo  eyo. 
Yage  bie  biji  bi  a  koge  bie  emu.  Zamege  bie  mam  abe 
bi  a  bo,  ane  bi  a  zam  abe  bot  b'  a  bo  bie.  Ke  lete  bie 
nzen  mekon.  Kainege  ne  bie  mot  a  n'  a  be.  Togo  na,  6 
ne  y'  ayon,  ye  ki,  y'  ewoge,  mbe  mbe,  Amen." 

A  few  months  later  I  held  a  communion  service  in  one 
of  the  up-river  towns,  in  which  were  gathered  all  the 
Christians  from  the  upper  towns.  There  I  baptized  sixty- 
five  persons,  making  in  all  one  hundred  and  twenty  mem- 
bers in  the  Ayol  Church.  And,  besides,  there  were 
nearly  three  hundred  catechumens. 

When  I  reflect  on  the  kind  of  men  and  women  that 
these  Christians  are,  and  consider  the  savages  they  might 
have  been ;  when  I  realize  the  surroundings  of  dark- 
est ignorance,  revolting  degradation  and  horrible  cruelty 
in  the  midst  of  which  they  walk  in  ways  of  right- 
eousness and  truth  ;  when  I  think  how  rough  that  way  is 
and  how  very  dark  the  night  of  Africa,  my  heart  goes  out 
to  them  all  in  eager  sympathy  and  solicitude. 

May  the  "  kindly  light "  of  God's  love,  seen  in  the  face 
of  His  Son,  shine  more  and  more  upon  their  path,  and 
lead  them  on  "o'er  crag  and  torrent  till  the  night  be 
gone." 

THE  END 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 

ne 


AFRICA 


The  Redemption  of  Africa 

FREDERIC  PERRY  NOBLE 

Illustrations,  Maps  and  Tables,  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $4.00. 

The  subtitle  of  this  book,  "A  Story  of  Civilization,"  is 
a  most  fitting  supplement  to  the  distinctive  title.  "No  book 
on  any  land  surpasses  this  in  thoroughness  of  preparation, 
wealth  of  citation,  impartiality  of  judgment,  and  the  pre- 
dominant desire  to  tell  nothing  but  the  truth."  This  testi- 
mony from  The  New  York  Sun  is  emphasized  by  every  jour- 
nal acquainted  with  missions  in  that  land.  It  is  practically  an 
encyclopedia  on  Africa. 


Dawn  in  the  Dark  Continent;  Or  MilsfonSnd  its 

JAMES  STEWART,  M.  D.,  D.D. 

Colored  Maps,  8vo,  Cloth,  $2.00  net. 

There  has^  probably  been  no  man  more  competent  to 
outline  the  missionary  work  in  Africa  than  the  veteran 
founder  of  the  famous  Lovedale  Institute.  This  is  just  what 
he  has  done  in  this  volume,  supplementing  it  by  some  in- 
valuable comments  on  the  training  of  a  missionary. 

The  Egyptian  Sudan 

REV.  JOHN  KELLY  GIFFEN 

Illustrated,  I2mo,  Cloth,  $1.00  net. 

This  new  mission  field  of  the  American  United  Presby- 
terian Church  has  been  recently  brought  into  prominence 
by  John  D.  Rockefeller's  gift  to  it  of  $100.000.  Mr.  Giffen's 
book  describes,  in  «.  most  interesting  style,  the  unique  problems 
faced  in  such  a  country.  The  Interior  knows  of  "no  other 
book  so  full  of  information  as  to  a  great  military  and 
economic  center  on  the  Cape-to-Cairo  railway. 

On  the  Borders  of  Pigmy  Land 

Illustrated,  lamo,  Cloth,  $1.25  net.  RUTH  B.  FISHER 

Mrs.  Fisher  is  a  successful  author  and  has  written  a  book 
which  commands  the  enthusiastic  approval  of  "all  sorts  and 
conditions"  of  papers,  missionary,  religious  and  secular.  The 
Mountains  of  the  Moon,  the  Great  Lakes,  the  Uganda  Rail- 
way, Pigmies  and  other  tribes  combine  to  give  a  rare  and  sig- 
nificant setting  to  the  -work  of  the  missionary. 

Pioneering  on  the  Congo 

REV.  W.  HOLMAN  BENTLEY 

Illustrated,  2  vols.,  8vo,  Cloth,  $5.00  net. 

%  The  present  Congo  discussions  acquire  a  new  interest 
in  the  light  of  the  conditions  as  brought  to  light  by  the 
early  missionaries.  No  one  has  done  this  better  than  Mr. 
Bentley,  of  the  English  Baptists.  A  fine  scholar,  a  sympa- 
thetic, "accurate  observer,  impartial,  intelligent,  trustworthy." 


AFRICA 


Daybreak  in  Livingstonia 

JAMES  W.  JACK,  M.  A. 

Illustrated,  I2mo,  Cloth,  $1.50  net. 

"One  of  the  best  missionary  histories,  combining  possibili- 
ties of  romance  almost  as  thrilling  as  King  Solomon's  Mines, 
with  a  calm  presentation  of  visible  and  tangible  results  that 
ought  to  open  the  eyes  of  any  who  still  consider  Christian 
Missions  a  failure." — Glasgow  Herald. 

In  Afric's  Forest  and  Jungle 

Illustrated,  i^mo,  Cloth,  $1.00.  REV.  R.  H.  STONE 

A  record  of  Six  Years  Among  the  Yorubans  on  the 
West  Coast  of  Africa,  with  numerous  tales  of  thrilling  ex- 
periences growing  out  of  the  wars  between  the  great  African 
tribes."  A  vivacious  and  deeply  interesting  volume." 

The  Sign  of  the  Cross  in  Madagascar 

REV.  J.  J.  KILPIN  FLETCHER 

Illustrated,  12 mo,  Cloth,  $1.00. 

A  pastor,  appointed  to  visit  Madagascar  and  report  on 
the  work  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  fascinated  by 
what  he  learned,  has  gathered  up  the  results  in  story  form. 
With  remarkably  vivid  touch  he  describes  the  early  condi- 
tions, the  coming  of  the  "strange  messengers,"  the  "mighty 
faith,"  the  bitter  persecution,  the  divine  interposition,  the 
changes  and  the  victory  of  the  Cross. 

The  Personal  Life  of  David  Livingstone 

W.  GARDEN  BLAIKIE,  D.  D. 

Portrait  and  maps,  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.50. 

This  standard  life  of  the  great  missionary  and  explorer 


Times  calls  his  "simple  but  noble  life  of  self-surrender  to 
great  motive." 

Pilkington  of  Uganda 

C.  P.  HARFORD-BATTBRSBY,  M.  A.,  M.  D. 

Illustrated,  8vo,  Cloth,  $1.50. 

A  fitting  sequel  to  the  biography  of  Alexander  Mackay, 
covering  with  that  a  moral  transformation  equal  perhaps  to 
anything  recorded  even  in  apostolic  days. 

A  Life  for  Africa 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  Cloth,  $1.25.  ELLEN  C.  PARSONS 

^  This  biography  of  Rev.  A.  C.  Good,  Ph.D.,  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  by  the  Editor  of  Woman's 
Work  for  Woman,  is  both  a  record  of  missionary  service, 
and  opens  up  a  section  of  West  Equatorial  Africa  of  which 
little  is  known. 


AFRICA 


A  Miracle  of  African  Missions 

1  6  mo,  Cloth,  6oc  net.  JOHN  BELL 

The  story  of  Matula,  a  Congo  Convert,  describes  a  change 

as  great  as  that  in  the  Apostle  Paul,  as  profound  as  that  in 

Jerry  McAuley.     The  Interior  says,  "It  ought  to  be  digested 

and  preached  in  every  pulpit  in  the  land." 


The  Romance  of  a  West  African  Girl. 
Illustrated,  i2mo,  Cloth,  500  net.  MARY  E.  BIRD 

"An  excellent  book,"   so   says   The   Christian   Observer, 
"for  our  young  people's  missionary  library." 

Missionary  Biographies  Series 

Illustrated,  i2mo,  Cloth,  each  7SC. 
Albert  Moffatt  DAVID  J.  DEANE 

The  Missionary  Hero  of  Kuruman. 
Samuel  Crovrther  JESSE  PAGE 

The  Slave  Boy  who  became  Bishop  of  the  Niger. 
Thomas  J.  Comber  REV.  JOHN  B.  MYERS 

Missionary  Pioneer  to  the  Congo. 
Madagascar  W.  J.  TOWNSEND,  D.D. 

Its  Missionaries  and  Martyrs. 
Thomas  Birch  Freeman  REV.  JOHN  MILUM 

Missionary  Pioneer  to  Ashanti,  Dahomey  and  Egba. 
The  Congo  for  Christ  REV.  JOHN  B.  MYERS 

The  Story  of  the  Congo  Mission. 
David  Livingstone  A.  MONTEPIORB 

Missionary  and  Explorer. 

Missionary  Annals  Series 

i2mo,  Paper,  each  150;  Flexible  Cloth,  each  300  net. 
Robert  Moffatt  M.  L.  WILDER 

David  Livingstone  MRS.  J.  H.  WORCESTER 

Madgascaar  BELLE  McPHERSON  CAMPBELL 

Biographies  :  World's  Benefactors  Series 

Illustrated,  izmo,  Cloth,  each  750. 
David  Livingstone      ARTHUR  MONTEPIORE.  P.  R.  Q.  S. 

His  labors  and  His  legacy. 
Henry  M.  Stanley     ARTHUR  MONTEPIORB,  P.  R.  CI.  S. 

The  African  Explorer. 


IN  OTHER  LANDS 


Poland,  the  Knight  Among  Nations 

With  Introduction  by  Helena  Modjeska. 
Illustrated,  Cloth,  $1.50  net.  LOUIS  E.  VAN  NORMAN 

Poland  is  worth  knowing — it  is  interesting.  How  could 
ft  be  otherwise  when  it  gave  us  Copernicus,  Kosciusko, 
Chopin,  Paderewski  and  Sienkiewicz.  Not  much  has  been 
known  about  the  people  because  they  have  been  hard  to 
get  at.  Mr.  Van  Norman  went  to  Cracow,  won  the  hearts 
of  the  people,  was  treated  like  a  guest  of  the  nation  and 
stayed  till  he  knew  his  hosts  well,  and  he  here  conveys  an  ex- 
tensive array  of  information. 

The  Continent  of  Opportunity:  south  America 

Profusely  illustrated,  $1.50  net.  FRANCIS  E.  CLARK 

Dr.  Clark  writes  from  a  thorough-going  tour  of  examina- 
tion, covering  practically  every  centre  of  importance  in  South 
American  continent,  Panama,  Chile,  Ecuador,  Peru,  Argen- 
tine, Brazil,  Paraguay  and  Uruguay.  Dr.  Clark's  prime 
object  has  been  to  collect  information  of  every  sort  that 
will  help  to  understand  the  problems  facing  Civilization  in 
our  sister  Continent. 

China  and  America  To-day 

lamo,  Cloth,  $1.25  net.  ARTHUR  H.  SMITH 

Dr.  Smith  is  one  of  America's  ablest  representatives  at 
foreign  courts.  He  is  not  so  accredited  by  the  government 
of  this  country,  but  rather  chooses  to  be  known  as  a  mis- 
sionary to  China.  In  this  capacity  he  has  learned  much  of 
China  which  in  another  relation  might  be  denied  him.  Being 
a  statesman  by  instinct  and  genius,  he  has  taken  a  broad 
survey  of  conditions  and  opportunities  and  here  presents  his 
criticisms  of  America's  strength  and  weakness  abroad. 

Ancient  Jerusalem 

Illustrated,     In  press.  HON.  SELAH  MERRILL 

This  work  will  immediately  be  recognized  as  authorita- 
tive and  well  nigh  final.  Dr.  Merrill,  as  the  American 
Consul,  has  lived  at  Jerusalem  for  many  years,  and  has 
given  thirty-five  years  of  thorough,  accurate  study  and  ex- 
ploration to  this  exhaustive  effort.  It  contains  more  than 
one  hundred  maps,  charts,  and  photographs. 

Palestine  Through  the  Eyes  of  a  Native 

Illustrated,  $1.00  net.  QAMAHLIEL  WAD-EL-WARD 

The  author,  a  native  of  Palestine,  has  been  heard  and 
appreciated  in  many  parts  of  this  country  in  his  popular 
lectures  upon  the  land  in  which  so  large  a  part  of  his  life 
was  spent.  His  interpretation  of  many  obscure  scriptural 
passages  by  means  of  native  manners  and  customs  and  tra- 
ditions It  particularly  helpful  and  informing. 


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